Mine took far too much of my seat area. I put the swing arm down to mark her boundary. She was spilling over into my chair. As it was she kept touching my arm. She just didn’t fit in the seat. What’s worse was the ill-fitting tube top she wore. It revealed way too much skin that would be proper to reveal in public. Her pants were so tight the seams were only a flimsy damn about to bust, skin pouring from their sluices. And she talked to herself. She’d look over our seat backs and often mumble something unintelligible. What did she want? The bathroom? The flight attendant? What? She’d squirm and fuss until she got all tuckered out and fell asleep against the fuselage wall. I was glad she quit moving. I could finally focus on my book in peace. What makes people so oblivious of others? She’d even put her feet up on the back of the chair in front of her. The back would move and she’d fuss some more. What is wrong with this woman?
I was glad when we landed. But there were other worries.
I had forgotten about the very small Swiss Army Kinfe
I carry at the end of my Thumb Drive. So I had to check a bag. It’s something I hate to do. I abide by the One Bag Code of Conduct. It’s the only way to go. I paid for it when I got to Baggage Claim. Since I was the first to arrive (over two hours early for my flight) my bag was the last one out. In fact, I’d thought they lost it. As the carousel dribbled the bags from the mouth of the conveyer, I hoped mine would arrive soon. Meanwhile my ride idled outside. It was actually the very last bag coughed from the cavernous opening. Before it arrived I was already calculating what I’d do in the morning without my clothes....dave
“Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.” -Mark Twain quotes
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