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Yet another trip to the wonderful state of New Jersey. I’ve been really looking forward to it. I’ve also been trying to maintain a more positive state of mind…hence the first two completely inaccurate sentences.

So I’m on my plane to Philadelphia, which is the closest major airport to New Jersey. There is of course a very good reason for this. There is nothing in New Jersey worth building an airport for. But more importantly, I think the US Government is preparing to dump Jersey into the ocean. To be completely realistic nobody would care…or even notice. In fact if a politician ever made this a campaign issue, they’d win by a landslide.

So I’m on my plane, in an aisle seat. I hate everyone on the plane. To exaggerate I’ve killed everyone on it. To be truthful, I’ve only done so in my imagination. Why?

The Guy To The Right Of Me

This guy has the smallest bladder on the planet. Yet he seems to not believe this as he has ordered 3 beers so far. Hence he has to get up and sprint to the toilet every 2.6 seconds. He proceeds to do this by suddenly tensing up and then turning his horribly obnoxious breath to me and saying “I need to get out”. Of course, he kindly waits approximately 0.000001 seconds before following that up with a 112 decibel “GET OUT OF MY WAY!”.

Then he lowers his shoulders and lumbers into the aisle like a linebacker, mumbling and grunting all the way. He returns 3 seconds later and repeats the whole process…except he does a deep sigh thing before.

As bad as this all sounds this is actually the only good thing about him. Mainly because it means he’s not jabbing me in the ribs with the spiked club I’m convinced he has attached to his elbow.

You see, he’s listening to music…loud music. Very loud music. The pilot had to come back and ask him to turn it down because it was drowning out the radio in the cockpit. I asked the stewardess if I could move to a quieter seat, such as for example, outside on the engine.

As if the music wasn’t bad enough Headphones has apparently invited a new style of break-dancing. Which he insists on practicing. In. His. Seat. Constantly. Therefore I’m subjected to an unrelenting series of jabs to the ribs. I keep hoping I’ll eventually get a strong enough boot to the head to knock me out.

The Couple In Front of Me

Ok first of all…they’re old, yet they appear intent on joining the Mile High Club on this very flight. One would think since they personally witnessed the advent of the printing press, they’d have learned to control their hormones by now.

Now this wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t do it loud enough for me to hear over Headphones music. Plus their movements are causing the entire plane to vibrate. Therefore the seat in front of me is shaking with violent intensity. And of course it conveniently bangs my legs in between assaulting my knees.

Probably the only person on the plane I don’t complete hate is the poor soul sitting next to them.

The Kid Behind Me

First of all I don’t like kids to begin with. I didn’t even like myself when I was a kid. So this kid who I’ve named “Fucking Brat” already has a strike against him. However, he’s apparently very delighted to be on an airplane. And he constantly yacks about it in some sort of incoherent speech and at jackhammer pace. He is so endearing that I have started referring to him as “Fucking Bratty Satans Spawn”.

In between talking about being on an airplane he pretends to be one. Which includes, among other things, taking a swan dive off the back of my seat. Which is particularly soothing to anyone that doesn’t care about their spine being in one piece. I’ve decided I like him so much I now refer to him as “Unholy Fucking Bratty Satans Devil Spawn”.

During one particularly interesting swan dive which involved relocating my rib cage, he spilled his pretzels under my seat. Despite his complete disinterest in them previously, he now insists he needs every single one. He goes about this in much the same way a dog looks for his bones in the garden. He digs and burrows under my seat. He does this for the rest of the plane ride. I’ve decided to call him “Unholy Fucking Bratty Satans Devil Spawn Who Will Be Disemboweled Soon”

Oh ya, I hate his sleeping parents too.

The Guy Two Seats To The Right of Me

Ok he’s got the window seat which means he’s got control of the window. Which he insists upon practicing…constantly. Apparently as some attempt at practicing Morse code he has opened and closed the window shutter, approximately 146,378 times so far.

Each time he pulls down the shutter he comments on how dirty it is and looks in my direction. I’m not quite sure whether I should respond or not. And really what do I say? “Yes it sure is”, or “Perhaps if you open and close it a few more times it will help”.

Each time he opens and closes it, it is with an amazing flourish which appears to get more intense each time he does it. Of course this causes the shutter to open or close with a loud smack which threatens to fracture the side of the plane. This is a refreshing break from the screech it makes in between.

The Guy Across the Aisle From Me

He couldn’t figure out how to buckle his seatbelt the whole flight. Honestly. He also refuses advice from anyone else. I hate him for being so stupid and not realizing it.

The Baby Somewhere On The Plane

Now a normal crying baby on a plane is really only annoying. However, this baby is plain creepy. It cries. Constantly. Without Pause. No exaggeration. There is no pause in the crying. The baby appears not to breath. There is no pause for breath. Absolutely none. It just is one constant wail from takeoff to landing.

It was annoying until I realized that simple fact. Now I’m scared.

Plus most crying babies vary the pitch, intensity, and rhythm of their cry. This one does not. It’s even more creepy.

The Pilot

I hate him for not plunging the plane into the ground and ending my torture.

The Flight Attendant

She’s cute, I can’t be mad at her.