Alright so where was I...Monday boarding the plane for Las Vegas. So this plane arrives from somewhere, probably Love Field in Dallas. I forget that this happens when you travel later and not from an originating flight, so, there are not a lot of seats to choose from. However, I find a window seat, right next to the engine, forcing a rather large man to get into the aisle so I can take the seat.
I like window seats. I don't mind the engine. I like to see the mechanical stuff in contrast to the land below (though for this flight it was mostly clouds, then dark). I also love to read all the little warnings and instructions that are stenciled onto the plane. "STAND CLEAR OF EXHAUST" (hmmm...seems obvious but go figure) or "OSCILLATE THE BUSSARD COLLECTOR TO ACHIEVE NOMINAL VARIANCE." I made that one up, but if I remember I'll put it on my designs for the sINjets (see League of Super Saints index).
So I was saying, I didn't have any real problem with this seat. Plus I thought, yeah, I'd get to have space. I wasn't in a talkative mood this flight. I did so well on the way Home to Midland, talking to strangers, even starting up a conversation with the lady in the Vegas airport, so I felt excused from the general company of humanity.
But no. Just as the Flight Attendant is about to close the plane door, a rather large, swarthy, inked, and extremely sweaty man lunges into the plane. He barely made it. And ran a lot. And was dripping with sweat. Guess where he sat? Yeah. In the empty space I was planning on enjoying. He filled the space with great gusto as well. But, not his fault, that he was sweaty. I guess, I mean, I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt as to why he was so late.
Anyhow, 2 hours and 20 minutes later, with him coughing all the while, we land in Vegas. The flight was a bit bumpy, I hadn't eaten, and my stomach didn't really know much of what was going on with me. In Las Vegas the guy beside me deplaned. I knew better than to expect my space to remain unoccupied. The further you get from Midland to Los Angeles, the fuller any given plane will be on a stop. I didn't have to deplane at all, and contemplated going to the restroom, but thought, well, I can make it for the 40 minute LA flight. Bad idea.
Meanwhile a lady had lost her purse, so we all spent time looking for it. "Is that your bag?" this helpful woman asks regarding my computer case, as if yes, I were indeed sitting there, trapped in the aluminum tube of an airplane, and in broad planelight was holding this woman's purse under foot, as if I could get away with it. Boris and Natasha I am not. "Yes" I answer, and start looking in my vicinity for the lost purse. They found it somewhere, I think someone else had accidentally picked it up or something. There's no good end to the story because my involvement with it ended early on, since I had not stolen the purse and so wickedly stowed it right under my feet and thus everyone else's nose, so to speak.
I may be exaggerating a bit. I don't know if the "helpful" woman (dark black hair, shoulder length bob, glasses, very white, red lipstick, yellow sweater) really thought my bag was the bag (it's a leather computer case, not a purse, by the way) or not. But I'm thinking now that I thought then that it was true. Because I was in a bit of a bad mood. Also I needed to go pee. Yeah...did I say I made a bad choice on the not going to the bathroom then thing? Wait, wait, don't get ahead of me, I did NOT pee in my pants. Yikes, nothing of the sort. I was just uncomfortable for the remainder of the flight.
Now, no one except we few, we happy (?) boarded from Midland going to LA few, was on the plane at this point. Lots of space. Then the Vegas folks begin to board. Please, let someone cool sit by me, someone attractive even, because I'm shallow that way. But, as the folks filtered in, well, some passengers were, I have to be honest and just say it, in desperate need of some deodorant. The offending party or parties were also very close to me. My stomach turned (no there is no vomit in this tale, it wasn't that bad) but between my bladder and my stomach let's just say it was a very long 40 minute flight. Luckily the fresh air from the vent helped things, but, not much.
I have to pause here and say when I got to LA, and I did get here, because here I am, I started to wonder if I was smelling myself. After all, I had been using some Axe body deodorant, and it doesn't always last long, but it was all I had at Mom and Dad's house. But no, I didn't smell it on the first leg of the flight, and otherwise what I smelled on me was APOLLO, the particular flavor of Axe body spray. (It makes me as sexy as the god Apollo, don't you know.)
Also of note on the flight was this Asian man and his blonde, flowerdy haired girlfriend. They had to sit separately on the plane, and this caused much alarm for them (she was loud and a bit obnoxious). When we were in the air he actually went to the bathroom and she followed suit. They went in together right under the flight attendant's nose, and I thought wow, they're joining the mile high club. But he promptly exited, and then stood at the front of the cabin where you're not supposed to stand because FAA restrictions prevent any passengers from congregating at the front of the plane (protect and survive). But the flight attendant caught this and told him about the rule, and then announced it to the whole plane.
So...he stepped a couple of steps back and waited there, still too close to the flight deck in my opinion. But when his girlfriend came out (ok, I assume that's what she was, I don't know for sure) then he went back into the restroom while she went back to occupy his seat. So I have no idea what they were truly up to, but I suspect drugs were involved. Perhaps I should have alerted the flight attendants, but, if I'm no Boris and Natasha, I am also no Inspector Clousseau.
So, after the longest, smelliest, drug/sex infested(est) (conjecture) 40 minute flight of my life (so far) we landed at LAX, my bladder full and acting very much like those animated bladder type things we see on TV, for bladder control medicines. Stomach was still turning. Of course, at LAX, when you land, it takes another bit of time to drive to the gate where you need to be. It's the whole, 1 hour, gate to gate thing the Captain tells you about early on in the flight, when you still think it might have been wise to save going to the bathroom until you were on the ground. (Again, a mistake!) But at least on the ground you know you will get somewhere at LAX, and that there are restrooms, so I just stared back at the lines of planes, all at different levels, headed for the same runway. It's an amazing thing, all the planes stacked and scurrying to get out of the way for the next plane that's landing in the exact same spot.
Eventually we found our gate. Then of course, deplaning is another thing, waiting for everyone to squeeze out, and getting one last whiff of the body odor from...wherever. But hooray, when I was able to walk I felt a little better, and found the first restroom, and the first available stall, and peed for like, 30 minutes, because of course after I waited to pee so long, I could no longer pee all at once. The human body is an amazing and totally confounding thing.
After that 30 minutes I then called my Mom to tell her I was on the ground, and proceeded to find a taxi. I found one, and told him where to go, and he said "how do I get there?" Lucky for him I wasn't a newbie from Texas just off the plane, but, had 2 weeks worth of LA time under my belt buckle. So I told him to how to get me home, and updated him along the way, and told him where to turn, and where to stop. I also still tipped him, even though I put way too much thought into the whole process of paying someone else to use my limited knowledge of the streets to get me back to Venice, CA.
But he dropped me off and I got home and ate some oatmeal when my stomach settled down. Then before too long I went to bed and crashed (bad word choice, but I'm on the ground).
Looks like I better cut this off and save the rest for part 3. Stay tuned!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment