Snakes on a Plane

Or at least snakes disguised as human beings. I really need to try to avoid the ATL-SLC flights on Delta that have a customer base on par with Greyhound at 1am in the back when there was a stop within sprinting distance of a liquor store earlier in the evening. (Yes, I've been down that road. More than once. But fewer times than, ahem, at least one reader of this blog.)

I fly a lot, and have seen people try to stuff some silly things into overhead bins, but some of these people took the cake. One guy had a 24” or 26” rollaboard that extended in width so that it was about twice as wide as a standard rollaboard, and waaaay too long to fit in wheels first. He seemed mystified when the laws of physics didn't bend to his superior will or repeated bin door slamming (which the flight attendant nicely told him wasn't gong to work.) He ultimately managed to find an empty bin and, no kidding, filled nearly the entire thing with it. I really thought he might break the plastic of the top part of the overhead bin.

Then about five more people got on with almost equally obnoxious “carryon” luggage, and appeared hurt and saddened that the plane couldn't accommodate them. All the while, everyone is ignoring the “please don't put your jackets in the overhead bins until everyone has their luggage in” requests. These are not small overheads: this is a 757-200, and the bins have been extended. My standard sized 22” rollaboard fit easily, wheels first.

The guy sitting in the middle seat next to me sits down, plops down his HMS Host Bag O' Crap, immediately bogarts the entire armrest, and whips out his cellphone. He starts loudly complaining about how bummed he is that he didn't get an upgrade (which are complimentary, in order of elite status, fare class, and various other mysterious factors) because “I really have a ton of work to do.” He spent the 3.5 hour flight sleeping, flipping through a magazine, and eating his sandwich (a turkey club from Au Bon Pain, which he vigorously tore apart, plucking out the bacon and dropping it onto the wrapper from perilous heights. This causes little blobs of unidentifiable sauce to fly toward the guy in the window seat who, for better or worse, was too engrossed in his thick library juvenile collection fantasy novel, which he read quietly while moving his mouth to the words, to notice.

(BREAKING NEWS: From the cubicle in the Delta Sky Club immediately across from me, the woman yelling into her cell phone: “He has done some nice crowns in my mouth. But this particular problem wasn't addressed. It's been growing on me [loud cackling laughter.] [pause] And I'm not that nervous in a chair, and a couple of Advil will take care of anything I imagine. Ha ha ha. Okay, a small handful, maybe.”)

Back to the snakes.

Then the guy immediately in front of me needs to grill the flight attendant on where the power supplies are. She points it out, and he says “no, that's a USB supply, and this (shaking the in-flight magazine, that fount of accuracy and value) says that this plane has in-seat power in some rows. I want to know what those rows are.” He insists that he would have chosen a seat with a power supply if he knew. Now, bear in mind that Delta operates about ELEVEN different configurations versions of the 757, including former Northwest 757s, and even former TWA 757s. And if this idiot and his idiot companion got to pre-select exit row seating, they damn well fly enough to know that there are lots and lots of Delta 757s. The flight attendant is exceedingly pleasant about this idiot line of questioning, looks at the in-flight magazine, and ultimately asks EVERY other flight attendant on the plane. When she returns with various answers (such as that first class has power outlets at every row) the kind, polite answer “well, I asked every other flight attendant, we just don't know.” And Mr. Asshat responds, with a bizarre note of triumph in his voice: “Well, finally: that's one of two answers I find acceptable. The other one is where the power outlet is.”

Bear in mind this all goes down before the boarding door is even closed.

I need a drink.