No Reward for the Kind

I’ve been out of town for a few days, so those of you begging me to post are finally getting your wish. I had to go to Kansas City for a work meeting on Monday and Tuesday, so I made a weekend of it. After a crazy streak of travel, I’m officially done with flying until late October. And after my flight last night, I think I could go a year without flying and be fine.

I was on Southwest and had checked in early, so I was in group A, which meant I’d get the pick of the litter when choosing my seat. I picked my aisle seat toward the front of the plane and settled in for the three-hour flight. The empty middle seat next to me got filled by the third-to-last guy to board the plane. Then there are two kids left to find seats. A 5-year-old and a young teenager traveling alone. The flight attendants call for volunteers to give up their seats so the kids can sit next to each other. No one responds. The flight attendant asks again. No one responds. Finally the flight attendant is like “Please people, they’re KIDS TRAVELING ALONE.” It was a bit ridiculous. So I reach up and ring my attendant button. The guy next to me is like, “They need two seats together” like he’s not willing to move. Buddy, you were just one of the last people to get their seats, in the MIDDLE SEAT. It can’t get much worse than that (I soon learned that yes, yes it can get much worse, which he must have known). The girl caddy-corner from me volunteered to give up her seat so that the kids can at least see each other and talk. I then relocated to what I call “Hell on a Plane.”

I should have known. I should have known. Of course the only seats left on the plane are going to a) be middle seats and b and more importantly) next to people that the general public chose not to sit next to unless forced. Because the kid that I was forced to sit next to was a kid whose row I quickly passed up when I was finding my original seat. He was probably about 12, chubby and had trouble written all over him. In the course of the flight I found out that he can’t sit still, likes to kick and pester people, has a small bladder and smells foul. With a capital F.

The kid knew the two girls and grandma in front of us, and I soon knew why they’d stuck him in another row by himself. So, so luckily, I had a portable DVD player so I was able to stick on my headphones after I got tired of him constantly leaning over to look at my issue of O magazine. He proceeded to touch my untouched box of food, trying to get my attention to ask, probably, “Why the heck aren’t you eating this?” or “Can I have this?” The other kid to my right, luckily, was a gem. He was my ally during the flight, one of those people who is a kindred spirit because, although his luck wasn’t nearly as bad as mine, he still had a sense of smell and could feel the vibrations from the constant kicking. He would roll his eyes with me as we put up our tray tables and got out for Chump to go to the bathroom—twice. He held my DVD player when the girl in front of me dropped her pen and just KNEW that it was under her seat and could I please look for it?

My DVD player’s battery eventually died—after an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm in which Larry puts an “inappropriate” tape into a VCR and inappropriate scenes begin playing on my small screen. I felt a little bad, because the kid probably shouldn’t have seen what he did, but really, how was I to know that CYE would start showing a little skin? After the battery died, I pulled out my iPod as quickly as I could to avoid as much contact as possible. The headphones have never come in so handy, because even with them on, I knew that he never stopped talking out loud, trying to get someone to give him attention.

When the plane finally landed, Chump wanted to get off as quickly as possible. That entailed saying “Excuse me!” while trying to push me aside and out of his way when no one was even close to being able to move off the plane. I’m pretty proud of myself for being as calm and patient as I was during the whole flight. After that experience, I figure I’ve paid my dues. I should have at least a year of wonderful seatmates coming my way.