I have rotten luck with flights. It's always something. The guy who throws up his thirteenth tequila a splash away from my shoes (gee, thanks cabin crew for monitoring his intake... not). The kid who keeps kicking my seat (no that's fine, my spine will recover). The guy who farted in the toilet (or worse) with the smell wafting through the cabin like an epilogue from A Nightmare on Blue Cheese and Decomposing Road Cat Street.
The fat guy. Need I say more.
The guy sitting at the window with a grin on his face. You make eye contact as you sit down in the middle seat. He says, "I always find flights go faster when you're speaking with someone." You smile politely. And that's game over, GAME OVER MAN! You are just a helpless passenger in your trapped body, strapped in, being forced to listen to this guy talk about his dry wall business for four hours. God I hate that guy. Please don't ever be that guy.
The lack of legroom. I'm an average sized girl. You'd think I could fit into the seat without breaking my kneecaps. WRONG!
But the worst thing? This…
The fat guy. Need I say more.
The guy sitting at the window with a grin on his face. You make eye contact as you sit down in the middle seat. He says, "I always find flights go faster when you're speaking with someone." You smile politely. And that's game over, GAME OVER MAN! You are just a helpless passenger in your trapped body, strapped in, being forced to listen to this guy talk about his dry wall business for four hours. God I hate that guy. Please don't ever be that guy.
The lack of legroom. I'm an average sized girl. You'd think I could fit into the seat without breaking my kneecaps. WRONG!
But the worst thing? This…
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