Sleeping Beauty

Crowded planes kinda suck. A lot. And while the flight was decent -the plane itself was sardined, stinky and I was most uncomfortable; 97% of this ride. Excuse me, stewardess, I’ll take a masseuse and a mai tai… thanks. The pilot can’t help turbulence, so I’m forgiving. I was placed in a middle seat in between two fairly large men. Sigh. This should delight me. It doesn’t. I’m cramped. My seat doesn’t recline since I’m in the last row. Armrests… What arm rests? There weren’t any for me to relax my little arms on. No. I was lucky enough to hunch over with my arms at my sides the entire journey. Both of you guys, on either side of me, are over six feet tall. I know I’m small but geesh! I’d like an armrest too. Screw this. So I take off my shoes since Bigfoot to the right of me felt at home to do so. And soon after takeoff, he falls asleep so peacefully… breathing on me with an aroma; reminiscent of cigarettes and beef jerky. Halfway through this magic carpet ride, I have to pee so badly that I am forced to draw up some scheme to wake up sleeping beauty next to me. He IS… in the isle seat for goodness sakes… and what else would he expect me to do anyway? Wet myself? I tap him on the shoulder to try and wake this gentle giant. Excuse me sir. Nothing. Sigh. I wish I could sleep this heavy at some point in my existence. I’m awakened by a bug flying into my bedroom window. Or a duck quacking in Toronto. Damn you nature.

I tap him again, a little more like a shove, but I need to get my point across here, or everyone in my row is going to be wearing what started out, as coffee. And mango slices. He doesn’t budge. Oh bugger. Maybe I should kick him in the chin. Ugh. No. That’s probably considered assault and, with my luck, this mammoth would be the resident air marshal. So, I stare at him instead. Trying to use the “force” like they do in Star Wars. Wishing the colossal dinosaur would wake up all on his own. What the heck is he dreaming about anyway? Selling socks… or prostitutes probably. How sound, of a daydream, could you possibly have? Hopefully, he’s buying Mentos in his dream and plans on taking those suckers when he wakes up.

While I’m conjuring up the idea to knock the bohemoth’s android tablet off his lap to the floor of the aisle he suddenly, he snorts himself awake. Good thing. I would have sent that tablet flying just for good measure. Oops, he’s gawking at me. Nope. The Amazon is looking at me while I’m staring at him to wake up. I’m still staring. And he gets this look on his face like I’ve just earned the “Creeper-Status” Award for most awkward funeral viewing of a live person. In his seat. On the airplane. Alive and well. Reeking no better than my earlier observation. Oh, hey, sorry about my rubberneck voodoo gaze; But, since you’ve risen from your slumber, rather obnoxiously if I may add… Would it be a bother to scootch on by.  Needless to say, the rest of the trip he has sat upright, his knees toward the aisle far away from my weirdo ass. But, at least I got to pee.

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