Ignoramus

The airport.  This is a fun place, maybe more fun to me because I haven’t had any drama in my life for the past eight months.  This morning the Chief took me to the airport for my three month trip back to Texas.  After checking my two, very large, very full bags...I head to the line to get through security.  In front of me a little boy is with his dad.  He is asking his dad four hundred and seventy-two questions about flying.  For about two minutes I thought MY little man was in front of me!  After a long pause, enough for me to sigh relief thanking God little man was past the age of questions, he turns to his dad for another round of questioning.  This is how it goes:

Child: Do airplanes have car batteries in them?

Dad: No, only cars have car batteries in them.

Child: So, if it doesn’t have car batteries...we are flying hoping Jesus holds on tight to the plane and doesn’t drop us?

Dad: Thats right, but the planes are also made to fly on their own.

Child: Just in case Jesus is busy?

Dad: Yes.

There is another long pause as the dad is helping the little boy take off his shoes.  

Child: Will I be able to see clouds?

Dad: Yes, really well, if we can get a window seat.

Child: Will I be able to roll down the window?

Dad: No, they don’t let you do that.

Child: Because then Jesus might try and climb in to take a break from carrying us?

Dad: No, you can’t roll it down because it would make it hard to breathe.

Child: Oh.

Another pause.

Child: Why would it be hard to breathe? Does it smell?

At this point he heads through to the other side out of earshot.  The way his little mind was turning was almost...refreshing.

I make my way to my gate.  Walking in front of me is a woman with her two year old...on. a. leash.  I admit, when Little Man was about that age, I too thought that was the greatest invention ever.  I strapped that thing on him, clipped him in, and tried to test it around the house.  He took one look down at the clip across his belly, and you could almost follow his train of thought as his eyes drifted to the long strap behind it.  He promptly sat down and started whaling.  I took a picture of this, the one and only time I put it on him.  

This idea is now very strange to me.  Why would people put their children on a leash, and put their dogs in a stroller?  What is wrong with society?  Think about it for a second.  We have these cupcakes that dress their dogs up in clothes and treat them as if they were children.  Last weekend we were out of town and I watched a dog go by in a stroller.  A STROLLER FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!  Of course this wasn’t some mutt basking in the sun, it was your stupid little yapper dog that never shuts up.  In my opinion, if it weighs less than five pounds, it isn’t a dog, it is however, a long haired rat that thinks it’s a princess.  Look here princess, you are no better than my 95 pound mutt that we call our “special needs” child because she can’t catch a marshmallow if it hit her on the lips.  So here goes by this hairy rat with a tutu on and a ribbon above it’s left ear.  I am thinking to myself, was this owner dropped on her head as a small child?  Does she know that is a dog and not a two-year old child?  Then I thank my lucky stars that my mother isn’t a fruit loop like this retired, obviously extremely bored, and too rich, woman.  So back to society.  We dress our dogs up and push them around in strollers.  Then we put a leash on our toddlers and walk around in public with them.  Let me tell you folks, the cheese is sliding off everyones crackers....

Forty-five minutes later, I am sitting on the plane trying not to make eye contact with anyone.  This is the most stressful part of flying.  I am so fearful that I am going to be stuck between “morbidly obese man”, and “woman with screaming baby”...both making me want to put a screw driver through my left eye ball.  I got lucky.  The plane filled up and I wasn’t stuck with anyone crazy.  We get up in the air...away from escape, and I hear a man snoring.  I bend forward thinking it was the man next to me, and it wasn’t.  I look behind me and there is the criminal.  A man in the middle seat with his mouth hanging open.  I am trying to read a book, and I am not sure why this is making me so irratated.  I was having flashbacks of all the nights that I have laid awake and listened to that same maddening noise.  I had the urge to kick.  The man next to me doesn’t know how lucky he is that he doesn’t have bruises running up and down his legs.  I know he wasn’t the one snoring, but he was the closest one to me.  I want to make it very clear, I am not talking about just a bothersome little rumble.  This fat ass snored for 2 hours straight.  Do you know how loud a plane is?  You of course have the irritating plane hum, then you have the random baby screaming...you may even have talking around you.  The only thing I could hear for 2 hours was this obnoxious snoring.   It was infuriating.  I seriously wanted to hit someone.  I was sitting there, with my eyes reading the same lines on my book over and over again, thinking about how I could possible shut the man up.  Here are some scenarios that came to mind.  

1. Stand up, turn around, and shove a napkin in his mouth.
2. Tear open my bag of pretzels, and throw them one by one at his face.
3. Scream at him to shut up.
4. Ask “woman with screaming baby” to swap places with his neighbor.
5. Tell the flight attendant that he was talking about a bomb earlier, and that he was very suspicious.  
6. Roll up the Air Mall magazine and start pounding him over the head with it.
7. Fill my mouth with soda, shake it around, stand up, turn around, and shower him with love sprinkles (this one probably is a no, because the innocent victims on both sides would also get the soda spray).

As I sat there, pretending to read, my anger stepped up to a top level position.  I wanted to put my hands over my ears and scream.  I love the Chief, but when he snores, it takes everything for me NOT to punch him in the face.  I wanted to strangle this stanger.  Just as I grabbed my pretzel bag and prepared to send them flying (which is a HARD thing for me, because I love Southwest pretzels like Molly loves peanut butter), the ignoramus woke up.  

I took a deep breath, and my heart rate slowed as the plane met the ground.  One flight down, two more to go.