If all is going according to plan, the man in front of me on the plane has sea urchins stuck in his butthole. Probably not though, it wasn't a very well thought out plan. Before I seem like a douche (too late?) here's a little background:
1. He was in his 40s and hitting on the college girl next to him.
2. He was clearly not a successful businessman (cause he was in shitty no room economy and not business class).
3. He reclined his fucking seat.
4. He was the only one on the whole airplane that I could see with a reclined seat.
I'll concede the first two points as it is a very real possibility that I'll never be a successful businessman and also a somewhat less real possibility I'll live to see my 40s. But reclining your seat in economy? That shit's unforgivable. I wish I was standing over him right now with the sea urchins asking comfortable now jackass?!
This whole situation probably could have been avoided were I assertive enough to ask him not to. (Grammar check thinks were is incorrect but says nothing about ending my sentence with a preposition?) I just thought it went without saying; the other 80 people in the cabin didn't need to be told. However, I'm accommodating to a fault, and avoid confrontation like it's responsibility. Instead I curl up into a ball of contorted indignation desperately hoping my daydreams are prophetic and not just pathetic.
For those of you wondering in what situation could sea urchins get stuck in his anus: What if he said the wrong thing to a sushi chef with Yakuza ties?
For those brave souls that want to know still more about me: I ate ice cream straight out of the gallon carton while writing this post. Yes, it's 1 in the afternoon.
No comments:
Post a Comment