Coach Class Roulette
It seems that I made a fatal error in the game of Coach Class Roulette. I chose seats 6A and 6B on Horizon's flight to the Pacific Northwest last weekend. I realize that at 5' 10" I am practically a giant for coach class, but the leg room was so bad on this particular flight that I couldn't even cross my legs without doing some sort of strange contortionist maneuver. My husband got the aisle seat so he was able to stretch out his 6' 2" frame between peanut cart trips.
But that wasn't what did us in.
Behind us was 3-year-old Logan, whose Mommy (traveling alone) incessantly bargained and negotiated and said things like, "That's not an okay choice." And then she started counting. Now I know all too well how this counting game ends. I've got three nephews under 10. It's not pretty. I held my breath as she counted from 1 to 5, and each time Logan hollered, "No!" At 5, you could practically hear a pin drop, then Logan shrieked, "NNNNNNNNNNNooooooOOOO!" and became possessed by the demon, screaming, flailing and kicking my seat so hard I was catapulted forward into seat 5A.
At about the same time, a single mother right across the aisle was juggling her squirming 5-month-old, who was now screaming at full tilt, until she whipped out the boob. The muffled sucking sounds on one side and the little darling behind me who wouldn't put on his seat belt made for an interesting flight.
All considered, Bret, I'll take the chatty woman covered in cat hair you wrote about awhile back any day!
But that wasn't what did us in.
Behind us was 3-year-old Logan, whose Mommy (traveling alone) incessantly bargained and negotiated and said things like, "That's not an okay choice." And then she started counting. Now I know all too well how this counting game ends. I've got three nephews under 10. It's not pretty. I held my breath as she counted from 1 to 5, and each time Logan hollered, "No!" At 5, you could practically hear a pin drop, then Logan shrieked, "NNNNNNNNNNNooooooOOOO!" and became possessed by the demon, screaming, flailing and kicking my seat so hard I was catapulted forward into seat 5A.
At about the same time, a single mother right across the aisle was juggling her squirming 5-month-old, who was now screaming at full tilt, until she whipped out the boob. The muffled sucking sounds on one side and the little darling behind me who wouldn't put on his seat belt made for an interesting flight.
All considered, Bret, I'll take the chatty woman covered in cat hair you wrote about awhile back any day!
posted by Lisa Snider at 11:28 AM
1 Comments:
Sorry for your tribulations, Lisa, and thanks for providing me with a laugh, even if at your expense.
Flying, once an adventurous and luxurious way to travel, has become the American equivalent of an overloaded bus with chickens and goats winding its way through a pass in the Andes. Dangerous and dirty.
Mel Bloom took me to task for picking on cat ladies after I wrote about my experience, so watch out for the mommy minions and the breast-feeding brigade. They are not amused.
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