After yesterday’s rather heavy post, I thought y’all might enjoy a funny one from the 2:1 Conference – the one about the lady who wanted to fight me at the airport.
So, on the first leg of my journey, I flew on a tiny little plan to Atlanta. There were probably only about 50 or so people on it. Most of them were really nice. A couple of them were a little…um…testy.
The first bit of evidence to testify to this fact happed right after everyone had boarded. The flight attendant announced that we would not be taking off until about 8:20.
It was 7:40.
As the flight attendant walked by, this woman, who had a window seat, nearly climbed over her husband, sitting on the aisle, demanding, “Hey! Hey! Does that mean we’re not taking off??”
Then, her husband refused to turn off his phone until he was good and ready to turn it off when we were ready to take off.
When we landed, he immediately jumped up, with his, um, posterior in my face to unload his carry-on. It took awhile. I did not particularly enjoy the view.
When the line of people in the aisle finally started moving, I waited so that this woman could exit their seats behind her husband. She didn’t move. She hadn’t even gathered up the stuff that was in the seat beside her.
Her husband was now two rows up behind the steadily exiting flow of passengers. Since both I and the other guy on my row were ready, I stepped into the aisle and proceeded down the aisle behind her husband.
She didn’t like that, apparently.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” she bellowed. “Somebody just jumped right in front of me.
“I wasn’t trying to be rude,” I replied (since I was obviously supposed to hear the comment). “I was just trying to exit the plane.”
“Well, you didn’t have to get in such a hurry!”
“I am actually in a bit of a hurry,” I said in a not-unpleasant kind of way. “My connecting flight leaves in half an hour.” (Thanks to the delay. Half an hour. In the Atlanta airport, which is the size of a small city. My connecting flight was two gates over. That involves an extremely fast-moving train. I hadn’t flown in 15 years. I didn’t know about the train.)
“What’d you say,” she bellowed, as we continue to exit the plane.
I repeated myself.
“What’d you say? What’d she say,” she demanded of the people behind her.
I repeated myself again.
She continued to bellow.
She chased me down in the little chute thing that connects the plane to the airport where I’d stopped to collect my gate-checked luggage. “What did you say to me?”
I enunciated very carefully, but again, in a normal tone of voice, “I said I was in a bit of a hurry. My connecting flight leaves in half-an-hour.”
“Well, you didn’t have to be so rude.”
Seriously? You’re telling me about not being rude? Really?
I didn’t say anything else as she walked away. I was thankful when the other passengers made comments that let me know that they thought she was crazy and not me. I wasn’t sure if I’d broken some kind of plane exiting etiquette that I was unaware of.
Can I tell you want I wanted to say?
The third time she demanded to know what I’d said, I wanted to turn around and enunciate each and every word as I replied, “I said I’m going to blog about you. Be looking for it. Next week. Weird, Unsocialized Homeschoolers dot com.”
After I collected my bags and went to try to find out where to find my connecting flight, I overheard another passenger talking with a gate attendant about the gate number for the same flight. I asked if he’d mind if I followed him.
“Not at all,” he replied. “Just don’t make me mad like you did that lady.”
We bonded in that moment. And, I was very careful to follow all unspoken airline etiquette, real or imagined, for the duration of my trip.