Greazy Tony: Blogging from 30,000 feet! OK, so maybe not blogging, more like writing in Microsoft word which I’ll later copy and paste into blogger, that Bill Gates is one smart som’bitch. Anywho, I’m somewhere over Nebraska at moment I’m writing this having just finished watching the movie “Flakes”, with the ridiculously hot Zooey Deschannel, on my laptop. Again, god blesses the good folks at Sony and Netflix who along with Steve Jobs’ iPod make these 11 hour travel days bearable.
I’m kind of getting old hat at this jetsetter thing by now. Once this trip is done, I will have taken off and landed 21 separate times in the calendar year 2008 alone. By the time I get back to York from Seattle I will have logged 76.25 hours in the air alone, which adds up to more than 3 days! Not to mention the many other hours spent driving to and from airports, checking in, clearing security and waiting at the gate. It’s impossible to spend this much time traveling and not hit a few snags, but by in large I normally have a pretty smooth run of it.
Part of the reason for that is that I am not a total dipshit, and I am always prepared. I watch with horror as people try to go through security with a 2 liter sized shampoo bottle or a machete sized fingernail clipper. Just where have these people been the last 7 years? Then there are the fuckwits who can’t figure out the Southwest boarding policy, which I think Inky’s year old baby Ween already has on lockdown.
Today, on my Baltimore to Nashville leg, this douchenozzle gets on in the C boarding group with a number of like C-9. He then proceeds to make a stink when the lady sitting in row 9, seat C wouldn’t “get out of his seat.” Even after the stewardess explained the way it works, he still stood by the row with the look of a pissed off 6 year old who doesn’t get to play his Nintendo DS. Oh yeah, we had one of those too.
Luckily for me, I was in a row of three with only one other person even though the flight was 99% filled. I’d love to claim that was my work of genius but I have to give credit for that luxury to the guy who joined me. I sat in the window seat and he took the isle and we were pretty sure no one would want the middle. I’m 6’1’ 275, and this guy made me look tiny. I swore that had to be his name, or Butch, Dutch or some set of initials that ends with a J, As it turns out his name was Albert and he is a machine press operator in Nashville who turned out to be a heck of a nice guy. Unlike most of my trips, I actually told him what I really do for a living and my real name, which I figured I owed him for coming up with the “middle seat deterrent” of two big fat guys sitting together. I wish XL and I had thought of that back in August.
The flight from Nashville to Seattle is only about 70% full, and I intended on using yet another travel plan to be sure I had, at the very least, an empty middle seat. This one is the “big guy with a sleeve of tattoos in a short sleeve shirt” which was going swimmingly until the old people who were holding our flight up came on board and showed a surprising lack of predigest when they plopped down right next to me. I guess I should have snarled at them or something, since a facial expressions can really get a message across. I found that out about four minutes later when, after looking over my shoulder at all the rows in the back that only had one person in them I considered making a move.
I guess I looked pissed, not that Frank and Ethel noticed, but the stewardess did, and said to the ancient couple that if they’d like a row to themselves she’d be happy to ask two of the people in the back who had their own row if they could pair up. The moved back, an just before take off the attendant came back and put her hand on my shoulder and said “enjoy the extra room; I just didn’t think it was fare that you should have to be the only person on the flight dealing with a full row.” Short of a neck rub, a bed to lay in and/or a blow job it was about the nicest thing a member of the flight crew could ever do for a person.
So here I am, all alone in my row, drink and snacks on the tray table next to me, lap top in front of me, and my iPod blasting the song “Hey Ma” by James into my ears, but with miles to go before I sleep.
P.S. I don't ever want to be on a plane that long ever again, unless it is taking me to Hawaii or Australia! By the time I landed, got my car, drove to the hotel and checked in it was midnight back on the east coast. Plus, I haven't had a bite to eat (excepting the snacks on the second flight) since I had lunch with Inky before noon.