Getting on a plane is not one of my "Hey that sounds like a bunch of fun" moments. Let me make this clear, I am not scared to fly in fact I kind of like the act itself. What really chaps me is everyone else I have to deal with. The exotic dancer with a bad case of the burbles. The two kids that are sitting next to me that have been given enough sugar to kill a rhino. The lady that has a bladder the size of a tennis ball but is drinking out of what I can only describes as a 2 gallon bucket of coffee. I always get an isle seat…always. What this means is I got to see this woman’s coach, in coach, as her coach bag whacked me in the head for the whole trip to Atlanta. She would talk about pretty much anything. Honestly this woman would not let me get a word in and let me tell you that is saying something cause I can talk with the best of them.
After getting off the flight to Atlanta I figured that I had made it over the hump. Beat the system. It was all down hill from here you might say. Wronger words have never been spoken. As I am working my way down the belly of the beast that is going to trap me for the next 5 1/2 hours I see what I will from this moment forward to referred to as “The 26th row of hell”. You see my friends karma is a very angry cop with a new tazer and he treating me like he would a drunken frat boy with a surly attitude. His version of payback is now displayed before me as the cutest little kids in the 26th row, two of them, in 26a and 26b, and you just know I am 26c. Tense is the word that comes to mind when I see this. It is not that I don’t get along with kids, I do…honestly I am just a huge kid so we relate on many levels. Pokemon…I got you dog, bust out bulbasaur on that guy. See I am worldly. The problem is I have trouble sitting still for hours on end can you even start to fathom being 4 or 6 years of age and sitting still for more than 5 hours. Neither can they and they only lasted about 5 minutes after the plane left the ground. They climbed over me, kicked the seats, kicked each other, kicked me, made farting sounds, made farting sounds to see who was loudest…longest...and I quote here “Most Dad like”. At some point this turned ugly and the real ammo came out to win the game. I will leave this with the parents speaking in some garbled speech pattern I could not even pick up on. I would like to mention that they where across the isle and found no need to switch with me. They where on a little mini vacation and I was the gimp that got to handle the hellions! At about the 4 hour mark they ran out of steam and the older one fell to sleep on my left arm. This was a welcome relief until he started to drool.
I am going to need a vacation after this trip.