|Just wanted to see if ya'll were paying attention.|
Also that is not my ass.
I had to fly to Spokane from Huntsville, Alabama. I had to take two planes that day. (Which is great because I'm taking three planes this weekend and you know what's going to happen. One of them is going to be late and I'll be spending the night in Atlanta or Salt Lake City. On the return trip I'm going to Minnesota and Detroit, so all bets are off.) The first flight was okay. It was the second flight that was the problem.
|I want to go on the "fun" plane.|
I want flight attendants who don't mind that I have
a sense of humor. (I.e., the ones who don't
threaten to get the air marshal.)
Truly I felt sorry for the woman. If one has to barf, then one has to barf. Barf happens in much the same manner as shizz happens. But the woman next to me felt compelled to do a blow-by-blow account of the situation. "Now they're giving her oxygen. What if she throws up in the mask? Oh, ginger ale is supposed to be good for that. Look, they're giving it to her by the teaspoon full. Oh, here it comes back up. I didn't know ginger ale turned that color after being in your stomach. Hey, they carry buckets on the plane. They found a doctor to look at her. Whoopsie. You can't get puke stains out of cashmere. I know."
|Why don't I see flying turtles when I fly?|
Probably I don't take Dramamine and drink
massive quantities of tequila at the same time.
My own stomach was doing random movements that would have made Cirque du Soleil performers jealous. I finally retrieved a barf bag, which is conveniently placed in the holder on the back of the seat in front of you, and waved it at the woman sitting next to me. She looked at me and I discovered that I could make her shut up. (The blessed but brief silence was filled by the woman in front of us vomiting into her bucket.) But then she couldn't help herself, "Are you...all right?"
|I'm sure they posted this on that plane|
after the lady was done barfing.
Anyway, as all things do, the plane did land in Spokane and everyone waited while the paramedics came and got the sick woman off. I wanted them to take the woman in the seat next to me, but they wouldn't do it.
So for future reference, if you have a seat mate who will not stop talking or in my case, not stop a marathon of puke related observations, feel free to find your barf bag and rattle it ominously. They will be quiet.
|I know this doesn't fit in but I saw it and laughed.|
You got to get the whole Snakes on a Plane
reference. Or Skanks on a Plane, which
is probably the XXX version.
I'm bringing a nose plug on the next flight. I don't care how goofy I look.