The Shittiest Plane Ride Ever
Do not pass gas. Do not collect 200 frequent flier miles.
I’m 30,000 feet in the air and I’m 75% sure the guy next to me has shit his pants.
At least once.
As recycled air — that’s almost entirely farts now — washes over me, it’s got me re-thinking my decision to always get a window seat on red eyes (it helps me sleep). But in its defense, the decision had looked promising — before it became a prison of my own making.
When I first took my seat, it was one of those situations where enough time passes that you start to think you’re going to have the whole row to yourself. I was looking down the barrel at poor-man’s first class until a guy finally sat down in the aisle seat of my row. No big deal. Got bumped into Kirkland-brand business class, is all. Things are still looking up.
I turned to my new row-partner and said as much, but he didn’t respond. He just stared longingly at the open door of the plane as the last passengers boarded.
Weird move. But whatever. He’s probably just afraid of flying, or is missing a loved one who’s still out there in the airport. It’s cool; I’ll just go back to reading headlines about the Ebola scare before I need to put my phone in airplane mode.
