F9 725

I travel a lot.  I love traveling.  A lot.  In fact, it’s my priority, second only to massive procreation to repopulate the world with semi-intellectual humans, but Project Ovary Overload hasn’t been launched yet.  Despite this love of travel, sometimes the act of coming and going gets tedious and even I suffer from the occasional “grab your bag and get out of my way, lesbian!” or “quiet that bloated and wrinkly excuse for a baby already!” moment.  When I’m getting to that stage I have to get creative, because getting drunk no longer works.  Here is what I discovered last night that borders the line between entertainment, desperation, and potentially disgusting.  It takes some skill, forethought, and dedication.  If you possess one or more of these traits, or are seated next to a filthy, loud baby, I recommend the following:

Step 1:  Put your shoes on.  I don’t know about you but at all opportunities I fly without shoes on.  Or pants.  The former is primarily for reasons pertaining to comfort although I suppose deep down there is also a part of me that wants to illustrate to those requiring a seat-belt extender that the benefits of being fit and small include being able to sit shoeless and cross-legged on an economy seat.  I am something of a rarity in these days of shrinking economy cabins, and also something of an asshole.  I admit that the combination of not wearing shoes or pants can be tricky in some positions but I make it work in most instances, and in those that I do not, you’re welcome 14F.

Step 2:  Wait until the captain has turned off the fasten-seat-belt sign.  Nowhere is our population’s inability to follow instructions or respect authority more evident than in the five minutes before and after takeoff, during which over half the passengers engage in a variety of behaviors obviously prohibited.  I say obviously because by this time the flight crew has made no less than ten announcements to the plane as a whole, having given up trying to communicate on an individual level with morons.  And nothing is more obnoxious to me than people ignoring the illuminated fasten-seat-belt sign.  After all, you’d like to hold out hope that even the below-average moron would be capable of understanding and following instructions depicted by a Lite-Brite, but you’d be disappointed every time.

Step 3:  Unbuckle your seat-belt and wait for turbulence.  On some flights, this may never come and if that’s the case, proceed directly to Step 10.

Step 4 (optional): Exercise ultimate restraint and not bitch slap 15F after she attempts to empty her water cup into a plastic bottle, spilling it all over her tray table, and then wiping it in one foul swoop onto your new Coach purse which is stowed appropriately under the seat in front of you, bothering no one but the poor people on the plane who cannot afford one.

Step 5: Once turbulence has become substantial enough for you to anticipate the illumination of the fasten-seat-belt sign, but before the captain has done so, run to the bathroom.  This balance is critical.  Go too early, it may not work.  Go after the light is on, and you’re just a moron who can’t follow simple instructions, like the rest of the aircraft.  Sometimes this opportune moment comes after the in-flight drink service has started but before the snack cart has finished.  While I would recommend waiting this out, if need be, bust out of you seat and tell the snack cart operators that you have just soiled your pants.  One hundred percent of the time, this works every time–they’ll be out of your way faster than you could actually soil your pants.

Step 6:  Lock the door.  You’d think I’d have learned this lesson by now, but that is not the case.

Step 7:  Hopefully by this time you will be deep in the throes of turbulence.  If not, wait.  After five minutes, anyone waiting in line will either assume you are having serious issues or will not want to venture into that lavatory following your departure–or both–so don’t worry about holding anyone up.  If you’ve timed it right, or once the time feels right, jump repeatedly.  Make sure the toilet lid is down and your shoes are fastened.  Maybe hang on to something, or not.  It’s a good time either way.

Step 8:  Repeat Step 7 as desired.

Step 9:  Return to your seat.  Under no circumstances should you actually go to the bathroom or make an attempt to do so, unless you want to cover yourself and the bathroom in urine (or anything else that evacuates from your body).  I have had the honor of learning this lesson so you don’t have to.  You’re welcome.

Step 10:  Drink.  That baby is still going to be wailing, and that lesbian will take her sweet ass time getting off the plane.



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