The Story of Snorer & Sweaty Bear

Date: July 23, 2009
Setting: DFW airport tarmac headed to ATL
Mood: Ready to be home with my husband and pups
Disclaimer: the following is meant to be read with silly sarcasm

I'm pretty sure that flying is meant to remind you of the depravity of the human race. People talking loudly on cell phones with little to no regard for those around them, overstuffed bags tossed carelessly into the overhead bin without thought for other's personal affects that have to fit in there as well, and then there are the individuals who feel the need to stand out in the aisle to "stretch their legs" as other people try to board. I found myself extremely uncomfortable as I watched a man step into his seat row as each man ahead of me passed, but decided to remain in the aisle as I squeezed passed, causing a deliberate and disgusting invasion of my personal space. "Creeper..." I unapologetically say as I pass.

I "accidentally" slip into the wrong seat, an aisle behind my own seat, and pray to the airplane gods that the seat owner either doesn't show up or that, even better, there is no seat owner and I can rightfully claim it as my own. You see, half of my assigned seat was already occupied by the right butt cheek, leg, and shoulder of one of the men in row 27. As I must have offended the airplane gods on some earlier flight, the seat owner of 28C showed up and I am forced to squeeze myself into the narrow space that remains between the two men in the row I'd originally been assigned. Those around me throw glances full of either pity for my plight or can't hide the fact that they are grateful they weren't the ones assigned a seat next to the 400 pound man in 27A. I immediately begin to search for my armrest so that I can pull it down and delineate exactly where his personal space ends and mine begins, but I find that my armrest is tucked firmly mid-back of aforementioned seat owner. Not a chance I'd be able to put it down between us, I realize with dismay.

On my right, there is a rather earnest and sweaty man, approximately mid-30s, who I can tell wants to strike up a conversation, but I throw all the signs of being a pre-occupied seatmate. I never make eye contact and then proceed to browse through my phone until the flight attendant makes her announcement that anything with an "on" switch must be turned "off". I look up and when she makes eye contact with me, she raises her eyebrow slightly as if to say, "Yea, you..." but I don't take it personally. I'm just the closest one she can reprimand. I know, i know, lady. I power down my phone and hear my wannabe new friend breathe in as he prepares to speak. I quickly grab the book out of my purse, causing him to close his open mouth. Mission accomplished. Shortly after "Operation: No Talky" commences and long after the crick in my neck has begun to form from sitting at a weird angle to accommodate my large neighbor, I hear a slow hum begin. Over the next several minutes, it progresses to buzz-saw status and I now find myself being serenaded by the sound of snoring. Not just any snoring...Loud snoring that every once in a while is broken up by the snorting sound 27C makes when his tongue falls back into his throat and cuts off his breathing. I sat awkwardly reading my book, hoping my face indicated nothing when he made a loud moaning sound and snorted himself completely awake at one point, looking around as if surprised to be awake. I try not to laugh so I stick my tongue between my teeth and bite down. Hard.

After Sweaty Bear and the Snorer both fall asleep, I find myself mentally compiling reasons why people who occupy two chairs and have bad sleeping habits should have to request special accommodations so they don't disturb others. I sigh as I hear the pilot come over the intercom to announce our flight's departure...

...let the real fun now begin. ;)