The no-sleep silent irrational passive aggression blues
I am in New York right now. Just checked into my hotel and I have a fucking bastard eyeball headache.
I got up at 5 am to walk to BART to catch the train to get me to my 8 am flight.
I was in coach, and foolishly gave up my aisle seat so a pair of young Quebecois in love could sit next together and coo about poutine.
I was now plopped in the center seat and to my left is a surly hunking flat-nosed bastard. Actually I know nothing about him, other than he dropped his newspaper under the seat and did NOT give up his seat to the Quebecois couple. So he is obviously Hitler in hell. And I was so, so tired. I can't sleep on planes.
So, I've had five hours of sleep deprived resentment fester in my core by the time the plane lands.
And this is an actual thought I had when I noticed the bastard to my right not craning his neck to see the Manhattan skyline like everyone else on the plane:
"You're not looking out the window to see Manhattan so you can read USA Today? What a goddamn asshole."
I didn't say it out loud, and I'm glad I didn't. I'd look sort of insane.
I got up at 5 am to walk to BART to catch the train to get me to my 8 am flight.
I was in coach, and foolishly gave up my aisle seat so a pair of young Quebecois in love could sit next together and coo about poutine.
I was now plopped in the center seat and to my left is a surly hunking flat-nosed bastard. Actually I know nothing about him, other than he dropped his newspaper under the seat and did NOT give up his seat to the Quebecois couple. So he is obviously Hitler in hell. And I was so, so tired. I can't sleep on planes.
So, I've had five hours of sleep deprived resentment fester in my core by the time the plane lands.
And this is an actual thought I had when I noticed the bastard to my right not craning his neck to see the Manhattan skyline like everyone else on the plane:
"You're not looking out the window to see Manhattan so you can read USA Today? What a goddamn asshole."
I didn't say it out loud, and I'm glad I didn't. I'd look sort of insane.
Labels: Weltschmerz
posted by Greg Mills at 3:20 PM
6 Comments:
As per our Canadian policy any American that gives up an aisle seat on a plane AND has to sit by a bastard so that our countryman may hold hands & Eskimo kiss; you Sir are now entitled to a lifetime supply of poutine as well as the Celine Dion Christmas special box set. (Please note the the Celine Dion box set is non returnable under any and all circumstances. Once it has crossed the Canadian border it is forbidden re entry.)
Sincerely,
Canada.
Dear Canada:
Is the Beachcomber VHS box set still available?
Thanks,
Your pal Greg
Dear Greg,
After the disturbing stalking incident surrounding "Relic" your ip address has been flagged and therefore we are unable to ship any memorabilia with regards to the Beachcomber series including toques or mac jackets. Should it be an acceptable alternative we would be more than happy to ship (at no cost to you)Paul Gross of the Due South series. Please note that we will be sending the actual actor as opposed to the VHS. (Mountie uniform not included.)
Sincerely,
Canada
If there is any chance that I could meet or at least get the autographs of any the stunt freckles from Anne of Avonlea II: Fist of Vengeance I'd be eternally grateful. Wonderful work.
I will at this time direct your attention to canadianTVcrap.com where you should be able to satisfy your cravings for superlative Canadian programing. It would be advisable at this time to inform your wife that Paul Gross will be arriving shortly, as well his USA assimilation coach Michael J Fox.
Sincerely,
Canada
Methinks you're being a little hard on the flat-nosed bastard to your left. If you ask me, the real Hitlers of airline travel are the bastards with the gall to ask total strangers to take their middle seat. And then look at you like you're a complete asshole for turning them down. Grow a pair, Mr. Mills.
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