In the spirit of taking good care of myself I booked a trip to Phoenix, Arizona during one of my recent Winter Breaks from school. I am good at taking care of myself. I continue to do it by putting myself first. It really doesn’t take much effort. You just shove everybody else out of the way and put your own needs ahead of them all. You may be wondering how you could do that. Trust me, it is the easiest thing. Just think of nothing else beside yourself. It will all fall into place.
So, I booked a flight for Christmas Day. I hate holidays and I am not so fond of all the hype that goes with them. Scrooge? Maybe. Crotchety Old Man? Definitely. Cynical? Without a doubt. I am here on this earth to meet MY needs. I also have no problem sitting in first class on a flight. What is an extra $100? Seat 1B. I like that seat. It is an aisle seat. I like aisle seats except on the days that I would rather sit by the window. Today is one of those days when I want to sit by the window. There is only one better seat on this entire aircraft and that is seat 1A. 1A is being occupied by some gal wearing sweats and all wrapped up in a blanket. Good God. We just boarded the airplane two minutes ago and she is already wrapped up in swaddling clothes with a hat down over her face, only seconds away from REM sleep. This is not going to work for me. Seeing how I can’t really poke her and ask her to switch seats with me, I try to make the best of a bad situation.
While I slam my carry on bag into the overhead compartment, I hear Flight Attendant Happy Pants greeting each person with, “Merry Christmas. Make yourself at home.” What the hell? Stop being so damn happy about the holiday and only say what you mean. They never mean that you should make yourself at home on a flight. What they mean is that they will be nice to you if you sit down and don’t ask for anything you don’t need and if you don’t block the aisle when they wheel that two ton cart out to pass out your six pretzel sticks and half a cup of cola. If you are going to buy a two ounce bottle of rum for your cola you need to have the exact change because they don’t want to have to hassle with making change. So, there I sat listening to Happy Pants smile and greet everyone. When you sit in first class you are the first one on. After the rest of the 156 passengers rolled in and Happy Pants said her last Merry Christmas I was glad to begin the trip. Happy Pants strutted over to seat 1B and 1A. She asked me my name.
“Joe.”
“Hi Jory. What can I get you to drink?”
Why is it that nobody can get my name right? Is it really like reading hieroglyphics? No. Rather than trying to correct her, I just ordered.
“OJ please.”
“OK. I’ll be right back.”
Happy Pants did ask me, the occupant of seat 1B what I wanted to drink before asking anyone else on the plane. So, there must have been some divine intervention involved. Mentally, I filed away that seat 1B is perhaps the best seat on the airplane, except for that bulkhead wall in front of you and the fact that you have to put your bag up above. Minor inconvenience if it means being the first one served on the flight.
We took off and Happy Pants sat in the jump seat by the door we came in from. She took her shoes off, which is alarming in itself. I always get ready for the unpleasant smell when someone takes their shoes off. I have an extra sensitive sniffer. She reached into her blazer pocket and pulled out a black wad of something. She slipped these now recognizable socks on over her pantyhose. They were black socks with multi-colored holiday lights on them. This was a very nice embellishment to spruce up her uniform. Happy Pants went into great detail telling the clown in seat 1C that she had forgotten her reindeer antlers at the security checkpoint. She kept feeling the top of her head as if this would make them magically appear where she wanted them to be. The man in 1C suggested that she could buy some at the Phoenix Sky-Harbor Airport when we landed.
“Nope. Can’t. I only have twenty minutes to catch my next flight,” she mumbled.
Good Golly. Enough with the personal crisis updates. Let’s wheel out the beverage and snack cart already. I am hungry over here in 1B. I wanted to say, “100,000 sperm and you were the fastest?” but didn’t. Happy Pants talked with one of her colleagues in the galley, which I had a perfect view of. They both looked around and stepped into the galley so that nobody could see them and closed that curtain that separates the kitchen from the passengers. My best guess is that they were complaining about one of the riff raff passengers back in coach. I am sure someone didn’t want to give up an aisle seat so a spouse or a child could sit with their family members. Who knows, but I did want to hear what they were saying. I have a need to know what is going on around me, especially when I am 36,000 feet up in the air hurling through space and time in a silver bullet capsule. The curtain was whisked open and Happy Pants reappeared wearing some kind of an apron and looking renewed. She came right over to me, the occupant of seat 1B.
“Jory, What can I get you to drink?”
“Cranberry Juice.”
“OK. Great. I will be right back with that.”
Happy Pants roused 1A and she ordered apple juice. 1A should not order a drink from the same category as I do. It is in bad taste. It made her look like she wanted to be cool like me. She wasn’t and didn’t have much hope of it, I suspect. Happy Pants whisked herself away to the galley again and came back toting two cans of juice and cups with ice. She took one step away and then flung herself around.
“Jory, I should have made you my special Christmas drink. Would you like it, Jory?”
“Ummm… What is it?” - I need to know what I am consuming and especially when an overly happy person makes it for me.”
“It is my specialty, Jory. It has cranberry juice and Diet Sprite mixed together.”
That is NOT a holiday drink at all. That is what you drink when you have the flu or are in the hospital. I bet parties were a smashing success at her place with all of her far out holiday drinks.
“No thanks. This is just fine.”
The flight went on as planned. I napped a bit, read a magazine, peeked around to spy on other passengers and listened to music. When we finally landed, seat 1B had other privileges. I managed to scooby out of my seat so I could be the first one off the plane. Being first means you are the coolest. Happy Pants waved goodbye to me and said, ‘Good bye Jordan. Have a nice time in Phoenix.” So now I was Jordan. I was just getting accustomed to Jory. Happy Pants needs to have passengers wear name tags. The only bad thing about being the first off the plane is that you get to be the first to wait the longest at the baggage carousel. So there I stood, waiting and waiting.
No comments:
Post a Comment