Ass Airlines

By Pauly
Miami, FL

I pushed the lavatory door to open it up. A bloody piece of toilet paper greeted me. I didn’t even think twice about it until I saw the elongated turd sitting in the middle of the bowl. Not only did someone forget to flush after dropping a deuce, they also had a bloody ass for the rest of the flight from Los Angeles to Miami.

I got selected for extra screening at the airport and got zapped with the full body scanner. I wanted to opt out and should have, but for whatever reason I didn’t say anything. I blame fatigue as the main factor why I did not resist and exercise my rights as a frequent traveler to opt out. I blame the cat upstairs which won’t stop running around in the middle of the night. Normally I don’t give a shit, but last night I went to bed early to try to catch a couple of hours of sleep before we had to wake up at 4:30am to get ready to head to the airport for a 7am flight. I crawled into bed with every intention of sleeping, but the cat was uncooperative. After two hours of muttering curses under my breath I gave up and shuffled out to the living room. I unfurled a sleeping bag and attempted to sleep a second time. Of course, the cat must have some sort of surveillance device that knows where I am at all times because the fucking cat went from using the space above my bedroom as a playground and promptly switched locales to the living room. The pitter patter back and forth sent me on uber-tilt. I tried to listen to BTreotch’s latest mix to help me sleep. The fresh jams helped drown out the noisy cat, but for some reason I couldn’t fall asleep. Insomnia struck me hard at the 2am hour. For the next two hours I struggled and debated whether I should stay up and write or try to squeeze in a nap.

I fell asleep right before 4am. My alarm woke me up at 4:25am. Yep, barely a half hour of sleep. That’s why I was a little groggy and slow to resist the TSA’s intrusive means of making the friendly skies safe. They zapped me and now there’s at least two images of my micro-penis on file.

Nicky is a frequent flier on American Airlines and has access to the Admiral’s Lounge. I honestly think those places are overrated with one exception – you don’t have to hang out with the unwashed masses while waiting for a delayed flight. What I dislike the most about those lounges are the douchebags of business travel. You know who I’m talking about – those loud, brash businessmen who won’t shut the fuck up as they yap on their cellphones thinking that they will impress everyone with their plans to take over the world. Nothing bores me than morons on a power trip, and frequent flier lounges are a bastion for those types of nebbish dickheads.

I sat in the back of the plane with all of the crying babies. Nicky was somewhere in the middle. When we were over Texas, I took a walk to see how she was doing and she was out cold. Sleeping. Made me super jealous. Not only did she get a decent night of sleep in our apartment (she fell asleep before the cat’s ruckus), but she also caught a nap on the plane. I just couldn’t catch a break.

We don’t care about sitting next to each other, unless it’s a small plane which really freaks Nicky out, so I make an effort to sit near her on those puddle-jumping sojourns in order to help calm her fear of small planes. Me? I don’t care about the size of the plane. Still doesn’t change the dream I once had about dying in a plane crash. I have more than accepted that will be my eventual fate, so I always have a moment of serenity whenever I step onto a plane because it really could be the last time I ever fly.

The worst part of the LAX > MIA leg had to be the hour that I had to endure with an old woman's ass in my face. She was seated directly in front of me but decided to chat up the lady sitting across from me and the person in the window seat. During this process, she leaned over so I had a full on ass in my face. That wasn't even the worst part of it. When I politely asked her to move, she pulled the old "I don't speaka English" trip. That's when I broke into Spanglish, "Senora por favor... NO ASS IN MY FACE!"

I had to call in a flight attendant to assist me with the removal of said ass from my personal space. What really sucked was everyone rumbling down the aisle in search of the bathroom. When given the choice between hipchecking the old lady or banging into my shoulder -- they opted for my shoulder. So not only did I have an ass in my face for an hour, the entire time I also got pummeled from other passengers trying to squeeze by.

Thank God my ass flight from hell is over. I'm killing time in Miami before I board a flight to the Bahamas. Then the vacation can begin. I hope to unplug as much as possible and read books on a beach for the next five days.