On a plane at any one given time, someone is behaving badly. You might think that would be the unaccompanied minor, sad to leave one parent, anxious to see the other parent, etc. Or it could be the High School Band, who has been fundraising for 6 months to afford their trip to play in the Disneyland parade, delirious with excitement. Or the children, of all ages, stuck in a seat for hours on end. But no. This week, it was the men.
It started with the argument over the definition of an aisle. Me: "Sir, your bag needs to go in the overhead bin because it is blocking the aisle." 6B: "This isn't an aisle." Me: "What do you mean?" 6B: "This is an aisle" (pointing to the center aisle). "This is not an aisle" (pointing to the aisle in front of his feet). Me: "Well, I think the gentleman at the window would disagree, because if he needed to exit the airplane in an emergency, this would be his aisle." 6B: "I would lift the bag out of his way." Me: "OK. Enough. I'm not going to argue the definition of an aisle at this point. Put the bag in the bin, or it gets checked." I sigh, and walk away. 6B is full of delight at his keen observations about aisles.
During the ascent to 10,000 feet, a call light rings. Is it an emergency, or a mistake? I make the upward walk, legs aching, holding on to every seat, to 33A. "Does this flight have food?" Again, a middle aged man. 'Yes, but let's chat more about that when I can actually walk, and the lead will make an announcement and let you know what is available to eat." 33A: "But, I need to know when I can get food. And a beer." Me: "Again, that information will come. I need to sit down before I am part of the ceiling."
On to the meal service. Believe it or not, some flights actually have meals!! (only very.............long flights. Don't get too excited.) While serving the meal, I ran out of the choice of chicken or pasta. 44E threw his lunch on the table when I said I had run out of chicken and only had pasta left. He went on to list all the wrongs that had been done to him by my airline, and my crew in particular. When we offered him miles, drinks, etc. for one of his legitimate concerns, he said no to everything, and pouted and gave us dirty looks every time we walked by.
At landing, thinking we had seen all the bad behavior we needed for the moment, the flight attendant sat down on her jumpseat. Her newspaper was stuck in her jumpseat because that's one spot where no one will steal it. As she sat on her jumpseat and thus her newspaper, she pulled the paper out from under her. The MAN across from her blithely noted: "I thought you were going to read that out of your ass."
Now, I know, the tide will turn and next week it will be someone else behaving badly. But this week, if you don't try to give me an english lesson, and don't pout or stomp your feet, and are 7 years old-for real - you will be my favorite passenger.