Wednesday, August 10, 2011

TRC: Part One: I'm tired of all these mf'ing snakes on this mf'ing plane!

Do not be fooled by the title of this segment.
There will be no such subject of interest, no such dramatic turn, no such internet fueled rocket to notority, no such famous black man.
Well....okay, you got me. There will be a reference to a famous black man. But none of the rest!

I have never flown US Airways before. It is not the preferred carrier of my company. It was, however, the only direct flight between Reno and Phoenix not solidly book a week and a half ahead of time.
Perhaps, that is some marketplace commentary of the last-resort nature of that particular airway.

For my part, the flight seemed more or less as any other, though I chose not to sign up for my free mileage membership....I assure you I will not be flying enough to need one.
What was different? The sheer number of characters on board. Did I say characters? Pardon me, I meant to say caricatures...they went beyond the bounds of normal limitation.

Probably the best character in the drama was one of the stewardesses...sorry, aren't we meant to call them flight attendants now? So she was so obviously OCD it was painful to watch.
She called out the boarding groups and would absolutely positively not let a single C go until she'd triple-checked that every last B had gone on. She's the only attendant I've ever seen actually send people out of the line to queue up against the reject wall.
And I'm not suggesting these were true line jumpers. Each time this happened and she kicked someone out of line, pointing to the wall, and would make announcements over the loud-speakers, there would actually be no one left or there would be only one person left from the previous boarding group.

Yes, I know, not preciously evidence of OCD right there. But how about when she almost had a meltdown when she realized two passengers had swapped seats.
I was witness to the swap. One gentlemen (k, not really but this guy gets his own paragraph and I didn't know better at the time) had already taken the middle seat next to his friend. When the man whose seat he'd taken came on board, he explained the situation and the man agreed to take the other seat, also a middle seat, just located about 4 rows back.

The flight attendant comes over, discovers this unpardonable treachery, and proceeds to hush-yell at everyone in the vicinity. She went on and on about it, turned to walk away, thought better of it, turned back and ranted some more. Then she did walk away and the Criminal Mastermind said "man, she was really trying to make me feel bad for something that ain't even wrong." To which his cohort replied "I feel like I'm back in basic training!"
(The two guys in question were Marines, if that makes a difference to you.) There was much speculation about her forcing them to swap seats before allowing take-off, but that didn't happen.

What did happen though was that she came back again and looked at all of us in the area (I avoided eye contact but the late-thirtyish-wishes-she-were-twenty-something-again to my left was caught by the Basilisk). "This isn't just me you know. This is a safety concern. This is a real issue! This is real! It's for safety. If the FAA, I mean, if the plane were to crash how would we know who's sitting where?! I mean, just think! If the plane crashes how will we know who's here if you've been switching seats!? It's real! It's a real problem!"
There were literal tears in her eyes and her voice was getting caught up. Absolutely no one responded to this display with even a head nod or sympathetic look, there were even some actual dropped jaws.
Realizing she was the only looney in the tune, she put her fists to her mouth, protested again, "It's a real safety issue", and left.
She mostly stayed in the first class compartment after that.

I understand the concept behind her point, however, I'd like to believe that in the event of a fiery crash to earth the FAA would use more forensics than my seat assignment to identify my charcoal remains.
Which gave me a million ideas for stories - how macabre.

But truth is stranger than fiction, and it reminded me of a news story I'd heard from years before about two girls in a bad car accident, one died and the other was in a coma, and they misidentified them. So, one girl was buried with the wrong name and the other girl was watched over in the hospital by the wrong family. Until when she woke up from her coma, they had her write her name and she wrote "Whitney" instead of "Laura."
(You can read a super long article of it here: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23849928/ns/dateline_nbc-newsmakers/t/twist-fate/)

Other characters included a very loud, somewhat large, Texan, thick accent and ten-gallon hat included. He was probably in his late fifties and white. He alternated between very loudly proclaiming how cheap this airline was and poor in service (he was one of the sent to the wall for line-jumping people) and discussing politics. He made me smile though when he started on Obama and said, "I'd've voted fer him an' he was polka-dotted! Anyone would've been better after that Idiot! There needed to be a change af'er that idiot. Dumbest damn person (maybe pres'nt?) ever elected. And he a'int a true Texan, either! (Said almost with a gasp - the horror!)
But the thing about this guy was, although he appeared to be more or less directing his social commentary at a petite woman, perhaps 10 years his senior, the only way you'd know is that he was turned so the angle of his body included her in his realm. And, quite like a human typewriter, he'd glance down to be sure he maintained  her undivided attention at the end of every phrase before hamming out his words straight ahead at everyone around for the rest. But she didn't appear to have prompted this discussion on either front, though perhaps that bit had happened before my arrival.
So, it was as though there were only two things in the world he cared for you to know, but he'd be damned if everone around him didn't know: 1. His ticket was purchased by a friend or he would never have countenanced such shabby treatment and 2. He was not, under any circumstances, a Republican. That last a phrase he said over and over as he walked down the main aisle of the plane to his seat: "Hell naw, I ain't no Republican. I swear. I am not a Republican."

There was also the very obnoxiously giddy middle eastern ditz boy with giant headphones around his neck and a laugh like a megaphone. He thought everything that happened was hilarious and had a piercing laugh that was 5x as loud as any other sound on the plane, engines included. He was probably stoned, he seemed the type.
Apparently, he also lost his boarding pass twice to the everlasting horror of OCD Attendant.
Reeling from the shock of someone daring to engage in mutually consenting adult seat swapping, she caught him standing in the middle of the aisle looking round laughing to himself. When she snapped at him to find his seat he said, "Well, you see, the thing is, I was hoping you could tell me which it was. I lost my thing."
To which she gasped, "Again?! How is it even possible to have lost it twice?!" She, having helped him replace his boarding pass when he'd got to the gate earlier. (Please note he had to have had it to get past security to get to the gate.)
He tried to protest, "No, the first time I hadn't lost it, I just didn't have it anymore." She was turning purple and told him to find a seat in the back, which made him laugh, then laugh even harder when he realized there were no seats in the back and so he'd have to sit in the front (near me, thanks.)
OCD Attendant came back checking for a "Martinez. M-a-r-t-i-n-e-z. Martinez." Annoying laughing guy was like, "Whut? Oh, me? That's me!" OCD: "Martinez?" very questioningly. Annoying guy: "What? Yeah. Well, wait. Maybe?" OCD: "sigh. What's your last name?" Annoying guy: "A-z-i-z" OCD: pause for a moment, "no." and turns away.

There was also awkward morbidly obese man. He sat back in his chair, in the waiting area, scanning over the array of people and making me feel like a jackass for looking in his general direction. To look near him without catching his eye was to be purposely avoiding him. To catch his eye was to be inappropriately staring. And, I am not saying that there's anything morally wrong with being fat, not really. I am a fat person. I am technically morbidly obese, or have been at least. I am sure that people have looked at me and wished I'd been sitting someplace else.
However, I just kept thinking how extraordinarily long and awkward the flight would be if I had to sit next to him. Or if I was him! Airplanes are the least amount of sitting space and you're sitting there for forever and there's very little to distract your mind from the sheer awkward of having one or more bodily appendages pressed squishily against your neighbor as the contact heat makes you sweat.
Perhaps it was just psychological projections day with him or my astute people reading insight, because based on his body language and attitude in the waiting area I'd say he knew preciously what people were speculating and almost dared them to it to force the uncomfortable self reflection. I mean the dude stretched out and put his arm on the seat backs of the people next to him. >.< And he talked in that tone of voice that I use a lot where you project and try to sound informed and/or too engaged in conversation to notice those around you because you're keenly aware of the extra eyes and ears on you at that moment (often easy to spot because the person you're speaking with actually isn't focused on what you're saying)....aka the sideways shuffle of shame down the way too narrow plane aisle because of courses you were given a middle seat in the way back.

My middle seat was actually in the front though. And as the girl who'd be to my right made eye contact with me as I approached, I smiled and she rolled her eyes and looked away. She was a stereotype of self-conscious fashionista (aka, not a beautiful face so she tries to make up for it with attitude and spent bank). She wore strappy sandals that wrapped around the ankle and lots of little rings, toe rings, and bangles - just one giant FU to anyone dumb enough to be caught behind her in the security line. She had an over-sized tote of an off-brand brand purse (not super high end but logo emblazoned on front). I'm not actually sure who the designer was as it just amusingly reminded me of petunia pickle bottom diaper bags (amusing for the diaper bag portion not the brand, which is often darling, if more than I'd spend).
She also didn't think the "turn off all electronics" applied to her as she listed to her ipod, wrote emails on her blackberry, and flipped through Sky Mall in a disenchanted manner. In fact, she only looked up from tapping her crossed much-tanned/tanner legs to gaze about her fellow passengers with the most fierce scowl of disapproval that could be managed without having to actually appear as though she cared or engaged with anything.

And then there were the couple of Marines sitting behind me. I was at first, as naturally an unattached straight young woman might be expected, intrigued by their presence. However, their many less desirable traits soon had me wishing them or myself to the back of the plane.
One would have guessed, based on the content of their unending chatter, that they merely wandered onto the flight by chance. They had to be at Ft. Somethingorother in Somecity, maybe-CA by 7pm that night. They didn't know where the base was, where the city was, if they had the names right, or even exactly how urgently they needed to be there. So they proceeded to question everyone around them as to this mysterious location and how long it would take to travel to various points in California. This was interspersed with their exclamations of how lost in Reno they were gonna get and how wasted (on marijuana and/or booze) while also they would have to leave as soon as wheels were on the ground to get to the base on time.

Example: Attendant (not OCD one, she was sequestered by this time) is taking drink orders. She asks "What can I get you gentlemen to drink?" thus interrupting some nostalgia exchange on getting high (like so damn high). Marine says: "Ma'am, how far is it by car to Ft. XYZ?" FA: "I'm not sure I've ever even heard of Ft. XYZ. Where is that?" M: "Ma'am, I was hoping you could tell me." FA: "You don't know?" M: "No, Ma'am. But we've got to be there tonight. Do you have any flights that direction?" FA: basically there are no more flights west from reno, she doesn't have internet to check it, but if they write down the name she'll ask the pilots "but what I can help you with is drinks. Do you want a drink?" They get some vodka and she goes to ask, pilots don't know either. They spend about 20 mins speculating that it might be south of San Diego. etc etc etc

All that would have been alright (aside from that they did not pause from talking for more than 2 minutes for the duration of the flight) but they were incredibly antsy, esp the one behind me, and kept kicking the chair, shuffling things around, taping, opening/closing the tray, etc etc worse than any child I've ever sat by. He also got up to get stuff or put stuff back from his bag in the overhead about 4/5 times. He had his hands and random junk in the back pocket and under the chair all the time and the seat was weirdly thin so it really felt like he was groping my ass the whole time.
But it made me smile to myself whenever they'd jostle Ms. Tewgudfer-u and she'd turn round and glare at them...to no effect or comment.
And! Of all damn things, the woman to my left knew where the city&base were located, how long to get there, and how but didn't actually turn round and tell them until 20 mins before landing. -_-

All this and more!
There were assorted minor supporting actors as well.
But, intrepid reader, there is no more time for the telling.
I have to get my butt out of bed by 5am tomorrow to be at work on time at 7.

I will try to continue my Reno non-adventures anon.

No comments:

Post a Comment