Los Angeles Edition

Before writing about being in LA, one must first get there. There is no dignity in air travel, and I avoid it as much as possible, which is not an easy thing to do when you like to go places that are far away. This time, on a morning flight from Newark to LA, I have made the acquaintance of the famed 6 circles of hell. On a scale of 1 to 6, I’d say this was a mach 5. Only overflowing toilets could have made it worse…. So here we go.

Since I left the house so early, I didn’t eat breakfast, thinking I’d just pickup something on the go. So, once at my gate, I grabbed a bagel, a large coffee and some cream cheese for my bagel. I found a place to sit and commenced eating. There are no tables or cup holders at the airport (why not?), so I had to balance my coffee and bagel on the armrest of my chair. I soon learned (by flinging a big gob of cream cheese onto my sleeve, which than bounced and stuck to the back of my chair), that my arrangement was less than ideal. Even though I was impressed with the aerodynamic qualities of my choice of spread, I didn’t have enough of it to cover both sides of my bagel. After consuming said bagel, I managed to spill my entire cup of coffee (mostly onto the floor, but I did manage to get a fair amount on my pants, too).

So then we board. Yippy! We make our way down that tube thing that takes you to the plane. Wait. Are those strollers?

We all pile in without much incident. Everyone is seated, all their shit is stowed in the overhead compartments or beneath the seat, and we’re ready to go. But the airport folk had different plans for us and we waited. And waited. And WAITED. Because of heavy traffic and a wee bit of rain, we sat there for 1 hour and 1o minutes.

The extra time was a great way for me to get to annoyed by my seat-mates. To my left is Ms. Sleepy. She brought matching pillow and blanket in a fuzzy powder blue material. She slept most of the trip - including the part that wasn't really a trip yet because we were still on the ground. I think the reason for this was because of the horrendous perfume she was wearing. I think it knocked her out.

To my right was Capitan Stinky: a middle age man with a beer gut and a copy of the Wall Street Journal he was determined to read in its entirety. I know this because his elbow invaded my personal space and hovered around my nose area quite frequently. I named him Capitan Stinky because of his horrendous breath. First I thought one of the many diaper-wearing children sitting close by had, well, done a doo-doo. At about hour 3 of our journey I figured out it was no dirty diaper. It was Mr. Stinky’s breath. To my horror, he refused all matter of food and drink, and ate only an un-peeled (as as far as I could tell) unwashed carrot. I really wanted to offer him a mint.

To add another level of interest to my travels, the Spawn of Satan (in the form of a 14-month old little girl) was seated across the isle. She went from cute to a raving mad lunatic in 2 seconds flat. I imagine she felt this unacceptable and was trying to improve her time, because she practiced it many many many times.

Behind me sat a little angel named Ari who kept kicking my seat. Ari was not very nice. Ari eventually fell asleep. I know this because Ari stopped kicking my seat and trying to find creative places to put his feet.

Oh, And someone farted. The entire trip. And it wasn’t me.

And then we landed.

(to be continued)