Raise your hand if you remember wearing your Sunday best to travel on an airplane. I can even recall going shopping with my mother for my plane outfit. It was a big deal to go up, up and away. Now air travel is like Walmart with wings. Last week, I was at the LAX Southwest terminal and you know the People of Walmart website, well I was thinking of starting the Passengers of Southwest Airlines site and it would give the Walmart one some serious competition.
I’d have one category on my site solely for people who travel in their pajamas. Is it just me or does the number of adults (mostly woman) wearing their pajamas in the middle of the afternoon to catch a flight to Dallas give you pause? Like you couldn’t at least have pulled on a pair of track or yoga pants. Same concept – there’s no buttons or zippers to stump you. It’s just stepping into two leg holes and using a modicum of upper body strength to hoist those bad boys up. During my flight delay (of course) I entertained myself by counting the number of fools wearing pj pants and flip-flops. I stopped at 14.
And don’t get me started on the morons who drag pillows and blankets through the airport. Longtime Snarky readers know I have ranted about this before but I firmly believe placing your pillow or blanket on the bacteria collector known as the TSA security conveyor belt should be classified as a terrorist threat. That thing is ground zero for some sort of toxin that will take out half of the West coast. What is it about grown ups needing a full size pillow and a blankie on a plane anyway?
I get the travel pillow. It’s discreet, fits in your carry on and is hermetically sealed. Adults clutching a king size pillow as they wander through an airport makes me a little nauseous. Like literally my gag reflex kicks in. I watch in horror as they take the pillow into the restroom and in one case I saw a woman place her pillow on the floor of the stall (give me a second as I fight through the urge to hurl).
This same woman then took her foul, pathogen laden public restroom pillow into the Southwest terminal Starbucks and laid it on the table! THE TABLE. For this act alone she should have been arrested and charged with endangering the health and safety of her fellow travelers. Thank the lord she and her pillow were not on my flight.
And while I’m counting my blessings, another thing I’m thankful for is that talking on your cell phone is not yet allowed on planes. Because I doubt the science to back up the FAA’s claim that it’s dangerous. Well, it’s dangerous but not in the FAA way. The danger stems from fellow passengers losing their mind and getting violent over the idiot that won’t shut up and get off their phone.
I’ve had to do some cleansing breaths and self medicate with Chips Ahoy’s just from being next to a goober who is in super chatty cell phone mode and with great delight and gusto carries on a phone conversation, about their mole or the size, color and shape of their bowel movement. I tell you when this happens I’m living for the announcement from the flight attendant telling everyone to turn off their electronic devices. What they really need to say and I think this would also make excellent signage for the overhead compartments: People of Earth – just because you have a cell phone doesn’t mean you have to use it. You’re not that fascinating or important. Turn it off.
In fact, I think if and when the non-stop cell phone use gets the green light I might have to seriously rethink air travel. I’m already half way there due to the food carry on. There should be some kind of smell limit (let’s call it a odormeter) that your food can’t exceed if you wish to bring it on the plane. I don’t even have that sensitive of an olfactory system. (Hello, mother of teenagers here. I’ve got a nose that can handle boy feet.) But there’s been some food people have brought on planes that almost did me in.
For example, who carries onto the plane a sushi sandwich that smells like B.O. and decomposing dolphin? (Not that I know what decomposing dolphin smells like but I think I’m taking a pretty good guess here.)The answer to that question would be my seat mate on a flight to New York. I had to go into emergency triage mode and use my scarf, and a one-inch stack of antibacterial moist towelettes (I always travel with a pack) to fashion a breathing mask over my nose and mouth.
Now you would think this would be a clue to my seatmate that he was causing his fellow passengers (or at the very least and most importantly me) great distress, but no. He continued eating and then proceeded to experience extreme flatulence issues. To survive I kept squirting my Bath and Body Works travel size lemon hand gel into my moist towelettes and had to take cleansing hits just to get through the flight. When that stopped working I went to Plan B, which was inserting the hand gel directly into my nose.
Oh, and of course the guy had a pillow which he was using as a lap tray for his food. What do you wanna bet it had also enjoyed quality time on the men’s room floor. Ugh.
**For more Snarky check out my book Snarky in the Suburbs Back to School.
Here’s a little ditty about it: The Spring Creek Elementary School PTA board (a coven of Mean Moms dressed in Uggs, yoga pants, and dermal filler) is up to no good. Wynn Butler (middle-aged, uncool, and not bringing sexy back) is determined to find out what’s going on. With help from her two kids, a Roomba vacuum turned mobile surveillance drone, and a few good friends, Wynn launches a covert investigation that leads to the “mother of all revenge capers” at the school’s annual Fall Festival. If you’ve ever fantasized about smoke bombing the idiot parent who has yet to master the fine art of the school drop-off lane, or standing up and shouting, “Liar, liar, Botox on fire” during a PTA meeting, then this delicious tale of payback is for you.
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