I can’t believe it’s time again to do a themed project between Memorial Day and Labor Day! Last year’s 97 days of “The Hairs of My Life” was a hit so I was wondering what I could do this year. I was going to do a “Crafts of My Life” a 97 day look back at all the things I have made with my own bare hands (and a sewing machine, or rug hook or saw, etc) that I had the foresight to take photos of but as I was getting ready to sit in my Lazy Arse chair and write, I had a new thought (which considering I have AADD happens to me every three seconds) and thought I would “Rant the Alphabet”
I am pretty sure I can come up with 26 different things that bug me and in alphabetical order no less! So let’s grab a nice big iced coffee and get this party started!
A is for: AIRLINES
I am not a frequent flier. The last time I flew was in 2009 and it was over to Holland…a mere 14 hour flight.
I like to sit next to the window as I feel I have my own little “space” and since I never fly alone, my flightmate sits in the seat next to me so I feel more secure…and kinda snug…like you would in an open-lid casket.
I really was naive in thinking that since the plane was going to be a large one (tho I was sorely disappointed it didn’t have an “upstairs”) that the seats would be a tad bigger. Nay, nay….my Large Marge arse had to fit into a space half it’s size…for 14 non-stop hours.
Not only my generously sized body was squeeeeeeezed into that space but also my carry on bag and my purse (which could double as a carry-on bag). In my bags I had squirreled away food, books, art supplies (I fancy myself a budding ar-teest), extra clothing (in case my suitcase got lost), a large cape (to wear and to huddle under should the temp in the plane get frigid) and a small pillow (there ain’t no way in Hades that I am putting my head on a public pillow…ewwww) and who knows what else is in there but both bags had to be jammed under the seat in front of me. Which left little room for my legs and feet.
I am only 5’4 but who ever designed the seats in coach had serious issues with normal people. The seats are designed for 8 year olds. Short, 8 year olds. No one over 8 can fit comfortably in a coach seat. And no normal person can afford a First Class seat!
I’m sure my 6’2 husband can tell you horror stories of his own but this is my blog and he can’t get a word in edgewise (like in real life!)
I like to sit in close proximity to the bathrooms. I stress out having to climb over someone else to get to the aisle. If you are a faithful reader of this blog, you know I have balance issues and can end up on the floor in any given circumstance. I also hate walking down the aisle to the bathroom. Being of woman of great wideness, if I should happen to meet someone coming in opposite direction, what are my options? Lord help us all if I have to back-up. And having someone squeeeeeze by me sends me into waves of panic because what if they bump me and I lose my balance and the weight of my butt throws me into the lap of some unsuspecting person and they start yelling and the hidden Air Marshall thinks something terroristic is happening and they come running and people start screaming and the person who I am sitting on is trying desperately to push me off and I start laughing (I do that at all sorts of inappropriate times) and I tinkle because of the weakness of my bladder and the fact that I have waited until the last possible second to use that bathroom and they think they feel blood on them and start screaming that they are hit and the Air Marshall pulls his gun on me and I am flailing my arms trying to get off of the screaming person and it looks like I am trying to fight back and the tinkle has now become a full on “golden shower”?
Seat me next to the bathroom to save all souls on board, please.
Shall I tell you about the food, or should I say what passes as food? Since our flight left at night we only got a breakfast….a plain bagel, some generic cream cheese, a plastic bowl of cereal and a shot glass sized juice and the worse coffee in the world. I might have mentioned that I am a woman of size so when I went to put my tray down, to my abject embarrassment, the tray could not go down all the way as my post-baby tummy (26yrs) was too big. So I had two choices. The first was to try to keep my food from sliding back towards the seat in front of me or to squeeeeze the tray down over my belly and not breathe since there was not a millimeter of space left. I decided I didn’t really need any breakfast and that drinking the thimble of juice and the world’s worst coffee would only increase the chances of having to go to the bathroom again and we all know how that turns out, now don’t we?
Tune in tomorrow folks for the next installment of the ABC’S OF RANTING