Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Farts On The Plane

There are some things which just bless my life without any invitation. Although I don't mind flying, I don't like being that close to strangers. Like ever. Even with my resting bitch face with ear buds installed and instant narcolepsy, there are always those who break the force field. People get too personal, too close, and too invasive which results in angering me.

A-N-G-E-R-I-N-G: pronounced ang-er-eeng: The act of making one pissed as hell and irritated like a vaginal infection which can only be relieved by a hairbrush.

But the problem doesn't usually start ON the starts BEFORE the plane experience...even sometimes before you reach the airport. It's a big build up to the climax. Like sex...only not great sex...but bad sex or messy sex. Riding planes is like laying in the wet spot.  

Like take Sunday, for instance. I was on the way to the airport and had to fill up the rental car. After opening the door at the gas station for a very ginormous man, he looked down and patted me on the head, "Thank you pretty lady." Really? Do I look like the head patting type? Instantly I freaked. But what do you do? Take it? Say something? 

I chose to stand in the middle of the floor making a lot of drama and screeching...."AH! DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!" Then I shut it off instantly like it never happened and walked up the to counter, paid for some gasoline. Perhaps he didn't get the clue as he shuffled to his car with a bewildered look on his face. But hey, the rest of the place parted the sea like Moses. 

On a side note, I chose certain clothes to be comfortable and blend in.

Perfect plane attire: I like the planar design and choice of fabrics with Bohemian color.
I try to blend in as to avoid conversation.

I moseyed on and got to the airport. The first puddle jumper was not bad because I got that one jump seat by myself on the other side of the plane. I think they reserve it for trouble makers. So I slept.

This was a bad choice because after the 40 minute power nap, I was wide awake, yet had to endure another 2 hour plane from Denver to Indy. Which.was.delayed.

Story of my life. 

I think my life is on delay. 

Once in flight, I sat next to Chatty Kathy and Pig Pen. I had not even buckled in when the blond next to me started unexpected chatter. 

"I think you have my buckle," I said.

"Ooh, that's why it wouldn't latch. I was just holding it together."

She was also a rocket scientist.

"It really is only for your comfort. If we crash, we are all going to die."


I was trying to deter her from conversation, but my scare tactic was to no avail. 

Because I am trained in actively listening which includes smiling fake smiles and nodding, I did not retain any of her nonsense drivel. 

"Sir! Do not move my computer. Do not touch it. It needs to stay right there! Sir! I said, NO!"

A big voice boomed from behind me. I already knew by the sound of his voice that he had to be about 300 pounds. I was right. The man standing over me trying to rearrange the luggage compartment was startled.

"Wow. Rude." Yeah. That came from my mouth. I have not learned to keep it shut. 

Pig Pen next to me said, "People are funny, aren't they?"

"No people are jack holes."

If one person comments like that, then others chime in and it was like the Muppets scolding Miss Piggy. This encounter pretty much started an entire plane fiasco. The flight attendant had to calm the situation. 

Then we settled in. I put on my fake sleep pose.

It was soon interrupted by the frail looking, young college student next to me. I'm pretty sure he was a Doomsday Prepper and the end of world was on that day. The noise was more than I could handle. 

"What in the world are you doing?" Yep. That's me again.

"Oh, this blizzard is so good. I also have chips, and Kit Kats, and Powerade and Vitamin Water and a Cinnabon and a pretzel."

"Good night. How do you fit all that in there?"

"Well, I am going into a food coma. Have you ever had airport food? It's sooooo good."

"I see."

Fuck me in the ass. Are we there yet?

I went back to faux sleeping. I had visions of Hemsworth brothers and Channing Tatum.

After about an hour, I suddenly awoke from my slumber and jumped up out of my seat, only to be restricted by my seat belt which pulled me back down. This began a panic struggle for my life. I was in disbelief. My moves resembled the Elaine dance from Seinfeld. 

Good Lord, I peed myself. Or was it the climatic moment after Channing Tatum did that last floor thrust? Shit.  What happened?

Ok. Gather yourself. You are about to never see these people again and face what you have done. I put my hand on my chest. I wasn't breathing hard. I was relieved it wasn't that kind of wet moment.

I really didn't think I had one of those dreams where I was going to the bathroom only to find I peed the bed. That hadn't happened for at least 4 years. Yeah. Pretty sure that was the last time I dreamed about pissing myself. Damn. It had to happen on a front of God and everyone.

And on this day, I didn't remember any of that. I don't even know if I was dreaming. I went into a faux sleeping pattern with a scowl. Usually I wake up with headaches when I do that.

"Oh, ma'am! I am so sorry! I am so sorry! I just spilled my glass of water on you."

I looked down. Sure enough. Not only that...but with hard wood floors it went straight to the vagina. There was nothing to slow it down. Thank you, God. At least I didn't have urine all over myself and others.


"Wow. I'm going to get off the plane and everyone is going to look at all of this (circling my vaginal area) and snicker to themselves...'Oh look...she peed all over her pants.' " I sighed and fake smiled trying to make her feel better. I don't know why. I didn't feel better. The flight attendant handed me napkins. Like that was going to help. It was already all the way to the va-jay-jay and settled in the crack of my ass on the other side.

"I am so sorry. At least it was just water."

Yeah. Ok. Let me see how you like it. Take this! I took some ice water from the flight attendant and threw it on her crotch.

Not really. But I played it over and over in my mind like a serial killer.

"It's Ok. Really. It will be fine."

LIKE.IN.THREE.HOURS... when I'm home.

My face continued in permanent scowl mode and I tried faux sleeping again, reengaging no one with my ear buds. My music was not even turned on. It was all part of my disguise.

About 20 minutes later...people started to shift in their seats and sigh. There were a few groans nearby. I know this, because the two next to me kept bumping me. Then, it hit me. Literally. A wall of fart.gas. They were the worst ever in my life. The air was disappearing. My throat was closing up.

Frantically I looked around for the dude who had "casual fart face", hoping no one would notice he farted. It was definitely a dude fart, not a girl fart. Don't ask me how I know. I just know these things.

WOW. I couldn't find the origin. Maybe I didn't want to know. My face started melting. My clothes were peeling off. Oh no! I was going to be exposed to everyone on the plane. I was pretty sure I had acid burns and the flavor was ass undertones with a hint of broccoli.

Coughing took over me. I grabbed my throat and struggled to reach out to the flight attendant...

"Water. Water. I need water. Can we do an emergency landing? I'm not going to make it. I am starving for air. Help me. Help me."

Not really. But all that went through my mind. Like 60 times while I simulated 50 ways to die. Fuck me in the ass. WTF? Really? Ass Cracker couldn't go to the bathroom and rip one in there? Lord, have mercy.

There were many moments on the plane I felt closer to Jesus than on the ground. This was one of them. Was this what my end would be? Suffocation?

It took 30 minutes for the air to clear. I'm sure I overheard the attendants telling the captain that we needed to cycle the air through the plane. I wonder if fart gas gets stuck in the luggage compartment and then our clothes smell like ass.

Well, I couldn't get off the plane fast enough. Yeah. Row 29 is only good in a crash, but substandard in speedy exits.

Luckily, my suitcase was the first one off the baggage claim. Something was in my favor.

I made my way to the parking garage to find my car, only to discover it was stolen. Bastards. And I had a new pack of gum in there.

Not really.

I searched the wrong parking level for about 30 fucking minutes before I realized I parked on level 2 not 3. Typical blond move.

Eventually, I figured it out. It was a DOH! Moment. In fact, my first clue should have been the valet area which was blocked off that I had to jump over with suitcase in tow. I didn't remember that going into the airport. Why did they put up a blockade now? Doh! Because you weren't on this level, idiot!

I think my hairspray got melted off with the fart gas on the plane. This led to lower brain activity as well.

I was going to be lucky to be able to navigate home.

But I did.

Just think. My flight to Greece is going to be almost 12 hours. I can't wait. Yippee. 


  1. You are 'doing flying' all wrong. Will have to teach you the 'Royalty caught among the peasants glare, pose and walk.' Not only will they not touch you, they won't even like sitting next to you. ;)

  2. I can tell you right now, if you get on a plane that I am on dressed like that, you will be getting more than your head patted. Holler all you want, I'm sure there will be al line of men behind me wanting to pat you and stuff, too... and maybe a frisky woman or two.

  3. Momma Fargo:
    Wow, never had troubles like that whenever I used to fly (but that was a couple decades ago when people were a bit more respectable).
    SO lemme ask the obvious question - WHY do you fly???
    ("Cause the bus is even WORSE and slower" would be the standard answer)

    I love the way YOU handle things...must be a hoot to sit behind you and watch the "fun"..

    BTW, feel to dress in "airplane attire" if you EVER make it up to our place.
    (and please return your stewardess to HER upright position...for landing)

    That'll work.

    Great post.

    Roll safe down there, Kiddo.