It never fails.
I’ll book my seat
on an airplane
that I figure’ll be
only half full,
over the wing
where nobody wants to sit…..
Still, I end up
with that same
damned kid kicking the
back of my seat through
the whole flight.
And the same
who won’t tell that rotten
little bastard to stop doin’ it.
I dunno why there can’t be
some kinda rule sheet for flyers,
that can posted on the back of each seat,
…. in plain sight of anyone
and everyone who doesnt
understand the basic etiquette of flying.
It’s a small space, after all…..
… with a lot of people crammed into it.
737’s- the plane I end up
flying on most of the time –
are notoriously cramped in coach…
and I would never –
– never — never —-
pay extra for first class
— it’s against my principles.
Not that I have any qualms
about having room for all two of my legs,
or drinking cold champagne
instead of warm ginger ale….
or actually having available space
in the overhead compartment….
or having right of first inspection
of any on-boarding hotties ……
or getting off the plane without waiting
for 10,000 people to get the hell outta the aisle.
( I was on a plane recently
that had sleeping cubicles !!! )
It’s just too much like the Navy for me–
where officers get the cushy quarters,
and the guys who do all the work
get to rotate bunks.
Talk about being treated
like a second class citizen–
flying coach is that and more.
Hell, they don’t even give ya
a bag of peanuts anymore…
……….. what are they dangerous, now?
Back to the whole flying etiquette
I can’t figure out what’s so hard
about the idea that you would want
to behave a little more courteously
and considerately when you’re packed
in like a sardine.
It’s a wonder more fistfights don’t break out
with the way people act on planes these days.
( Did you read about
the flight attendants
who came to blows
during a flight
between Rochester and Atlanta?
Well, maybe I’d be
in a pissy mood too,
if I had to go to Atlanta, again,
but still….. )
No, I definitely feel like a
“Muscleheaded Guide to Flying Etiquette”
post comin on.
Rule One: Stop your rotten little brat
from kicking the seat in front of him.
Look… I understand that kid
is your pride and joy….
and I know modern parents
don’t like to use discipline
on their kids cause it traumatizes ’em and all
— (umm.. yeah)
But you gotta figure:
To me – that kid ain’t nothing
but a sticky, noisy,
annoyin’ pain in the ass.
That kid is gonna be a lot more
traumatized by ME losing my temper
than if you did it.
You’d better believe that.
Rule Two: Stop your rotten little brat
from hanging over the seat in front of him
and carrying on an inane conversation
about Barney the Dinosaur with the
poor, tired musclehead seated therein.
I know, the kid is bored.
Why don’t you buy him some toys ?
Or you could do what my Dad used to do
when he wanted some peace and quiet,
and give him a coupla shots of bourbon ?
Rule Three: Your music is your music.
I won’t tell you how much it really sucks,
if you’ll just keep it to yourself.
I love my IPod…
and admittedly, I like it loud….
but even I have sense enough
to keep it turned down low
enough so I don’t interrupt
that geezer next to me’s beauty sleep.
‘Cause I really don’t want to hear any more
about his great-grandchildren or his war stories.
Rule Four: If you’re gonna drink on the plane,
I hate drunks.
Worse, though, are those guys who start out
perfectly sober and go from normal to stupid in 2.4 drinks.
Half the flight, I have to listen to them rave,
the rest of it, I have to watch em throw up.
And why do they always sit next to ME???
Rule Five: If you snore, STAY AWAKE.
It’s nice that you don’t mind being
the center of attention and the
creator of such mirth and merryment
among your fellow passengers,
but me, I’m embarrassed fer ya.
Even that 650 pound smelly dude is laughing at you.
Hey, man.. you gotta think about
having that foghorn of yours fixed.
Rule Six: Don’t piss off the flight attendant.
The people who mess with flight attendants
are the same idiots who talk down
to wait staff in restaurants—
Oh sure, what can she do to ya, right?
Well, here’s the diffference, moron.
If you piss off a waitress, the worst that’ll probably
happen is she’ll spit in your clam chowder.
If you piss off the flight attendant,
the pilot could land the plane,
have you removed and charged
with interfering with a flight crew.
Which I couldnt care less about-
except I’ll be sitting on a tarmac in Keokuk
when I should be landing in Chicago
in time for the Bears game.
Talk about makin’ somebody mad.
Rule Seven: Carry-on luggage MUST fit
in the overhead compartment or under your seat.
I don’t know how these people get
through all the checkpoints with oversize luggage —
maybe it expands from the plane pressure, I dunno…..
but I’ve been delayed so many times by dimwits
carrying on oversized luggage I’ve lost count.
The last time, this couple —
( wearing T-Shirts from the Loxahatchee Nudist Colony
that said “I’d Rather Be Naked”—-
…… well, I’d rather they weren’t… )
They carried on a large cloth shopping bag,
that couldnt go into the overhead because it was open…
and couldnt fit under the seat.
The F/A told her she shoulda checked it-
the woman replied that the bag contained “Personal Items”,
and didnt want to check it.
What kinda “personal items”, asked the F/A….
The woman starts pulling out all these …..
…… ummmm….. devices.
She sells em apparently…..
The F/A look at the woman like she’s out of her mind..
…. goes and conferences with another one….
……. this goes back and forth for fifteen minutes.
In the meantime, three rows back from these maniacs,
I got steam comin outta the top of my head.
We can’t go anywhere until these people
figure out where to put their sex toys???
I coulda shown em.
And woulda – if they’d held that
plane up five more minutes.
Rule Eight: Get Yer Own Damn Magazine.
I don’t get nearly as much time
as I’d like to catch up on my reading…..
.. a flight is a good opportunity for me
to catch up on my back issues
of Muscular Development.
That is, unless I got someone
trying to read it
from the seat next to me.
It’s bad enough I gotta
share my legroom
cause you stashed
your laptop down there,
but I’m not sharin my magazine.
Buy yer own, ya cheapskate.
And don’t tell me
the story about
why you’re not working out
anymore ’cause of your bad back.
I’ve heard it.
Rule Nine: Cover your mouth
when you cough or sneeze, Goober.
Didn’t your momma teach you ANYTHING?
Now, if these rules seem
like asking too much…..
well, you might consider
acquiring alternative transportation….
H O Y !!!!