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Monkey in the Middle

September 2, 2011

Delta Flight #1580

San Francisco, California to Atlanta, Georgia

Seat 41E

It occurred to me during this week's travels, that on occasion, we need a refresher course on some important social definitions.  Today's lesson is regarding the simple and necessary word:  MIDDLE

Positive Social Definitions:

Middle: The halfway mark between the starting point and the goal

Middle Ages aka Medieval: In history, the path from classical learning to Renaissance scholarship

Middle School:  In academics, the educational bridge between elementary and high school

Middle Ground: In strategy, a compromise between two opposing positions

Middle Child:  Peacekeeper, Mediator, Negotiator

Negative Social Definitions:

Middle Finger:  A derogatory hand gesture indicating extreme unhappiness or dissapointment

Middle Seat:  Hell On Earth (technically, Hell In The Sky)

Random Social Observation

In society there are days whose sole purpose is to remind us that status means nothing.  We are all equal and the travel gods intentionally bring us to a place of humility to teach us something.  On these days, nothing matters.  Not the number of miles you fly...nor how nice you are to the travel humans that rule the universe.  

Sometimes, the middle seat just happens.  It is up to us to swallow our bitterness and take in the randomness of humanity.  Today was that day for me.

Seat 41E lives in the back of a Boeing 757-200.  It takes approximately a week to walk the length of the aisle...but give yourself extra time in case there is traffic. I ventured onboard with my grocery bag full of snack food, water, aloe-infused Kleenex (since I was rockin' the double ear and sinus infection), magazines, laptop and gallon jug of hand sanitizer.  

My companion to the left, in 41D, was "The Literary Goddess" a fascinating woman that was coming home from a conference in the 'City by the Bay'.  She seemed to be cut from the cloth of a San Franciscan...these are her people...I thought maybe she was lost.  Long gray hair in a leather ponytail holder, a poncho-style blouse, pajama pants, strands of beads and sandals.  I wanted to follow her home to see exactly where she lives in Atlanta.  She looked more like a philosophy/poetry teacher at Cal Berkeley than a Southern Belle!  She enjoyed discussing books with strangers.  In fact, she started a spontaneous book group with Miss 41C and Mr. 40C (who will require the services of a good chiropractor when he lands due to three hours of straining to look over his shoulder since the seatbelt sign was on most of the flight). 

To my right was "Split Personality Passenger".  Mr. 41F alternated from sleeping with his mouth open and occasionally resting on my shoulder, to spontaneously shouting, "I MUST GET OUT!" and practically throwing our tray tables and magazines out into the aisle to escape.  All in all, he requested freedom seven times.  That must be some kind of record...

Mr. 41F never spoke to us and ignored the Delta Diva’s offer of snacks and a beverage.  I wasn’t asking for a marriage proposal, but some acknowledgment is a moral imperative from a man who has slept on my shoulder and would be sought out by the CSI Unit for having left hair fragments on my sweater.  

But during our seventeen...I mean four and half...hours together I learned a couple of things...

• Squeezing into the middle seat is like wearing spandex pants...and I never want to wear them again
• The rule of “Never talk to strangers” should be forgotten once you walk down the jetway...especially if you will be sleeping on my shoulder
• If I should ever meet the inventors of the TV monitors in the airline seats...I will kiss them on the mouth
• Lamaze breathing is as effective for middle seat angst as it is for the pain of childbirth
• The $4 carrot muffin from SFO is expensive...but not tasty...a tough lesson at 37,000 feet
• People with ear infections talk loud...that's what Joey said from his perch in 41B...yes...a middle seat...he can tell his own story...

Oh...and the world is full of amazing people...and they are all just trying to get home...

Oxygen Masks Will Drop From the Compartment Above Your Seat...

August 26, 2011

Delta Flight #5597

Lafayette, Louisiana to Atlanta, Georgia

Seat 5D

Each flight begins as an adventure.  What unexpected bit of joy will be served up to me today?  As I sat in the waiting area before we boarded, I scanned the crowd...trying to guess who would make my flight memorable...

Today, I took my seat and stored my bag.  I reflected on my great trip to Louisiana and continued to marvel at the concept of a “drive-thru Daiquiri store”.  Genius!  Suddenly,  I felt the ever-so-slight push on the back of my seat...and then again...and then again...and then the squeal... “Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! over and over again...

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a WINNER! I have the "kicking child" behind me!  

She did not want the crackers...she rejected the offer to look at the teeny tiny cars out the window...she only wanted to kick the stranger...to slam the tray...to scream, “No!” and “Mine!” intermittently.  Her parents were merely spectators... 

After the “DING!” that signals the blessed moment I can put my headphones on and drown out the screaming and endless "Stop That's!" from the parental units, I turned back and gave them “The Look”.  I know you know what I mean...raised eyebrow...a lopsided half-smile.  The warning look that asks you to throw your parenting skills into overdrive.  There was a nod of understanding between us...and the kicking stopped.  I won.

About ten minutes later, the weirdest thing happened...the man across the aisle in 4B looked at me.  Just a subtle stare...and then he wrinkled his nose.  I looked around...there were lots of wrinkled noses and stares in my general direction.  And then...I smelled it...

Just when you think you have won...your supreme non-verbal communication skills have improved the quality of life for everyone on the flight...they pull out this unexpected weapon of mass destruction...something so vile it defies description.  But it got worse, Mr. 6D and Mrs. 6C ignored the offending diaper...

Through the drink service...complimentary pretzels...and long after the flight attendant cruised the aisle collecting trash...they just ignored it...

Until the day I die, I will wonder what the kicking child ate...

If it went unchanged much longer, I believe the oxygen masks would have dropped from the panels overhead.  This is the emergency the flight attendants warn us about...

All at once, I witnessed a true act of bravery.  I saw him out of the corner of my eye.  Slow steady steps.  He appeared to be slightly green from either a bad attempt at self-tanner, but more logically from diaper nausea.  This man from 2B walked back and demanded the diaper be changed.  Lightening fast, Mrs. 6D jumped from her seat and raced down the aisle...carrying the the kicking child out in front of her...

And there was much rejoicing...

Until they sat back down...and my personal hell began again...one kick at a time...

Dog Lover @ 30,000 Feet

August 19, 2011
American Airlines (bygones to my Delta Divas...had to cheat on you today...)
Flight #2980
Columbus, GA to Dallas, Texas

Random Travel Specimen:

Not sure what makes me laugh harder, the fact that out of all the seats on the plane, I get the one next to the lady whose poodle decides to bark throughout the two hour flight in a deafening yap that makes my fillings hurt...OR...the fact that she keeps screeching at the dog in a high-pitched shriek that causes the man a row ahead of me to be so desperate to escape he would seek refuge in the bathroom...OR...perhaps it's the endless kicking...yes...she is in fact kicking said poodle through his designer carrying case..oh and the phrase, "Baby, shut up!" will be forever burned in my brain...Bless Their Hearts...

Findings:

Just realized there are two of them...dogs that is...two white poodles with matching bandanas...gnarly teeth and snarling...

Hypothesis:

I believe they are plotting an escape...one barks while the other one chews the window off of the Poodle Palace...wishing I had bacon in my purse...not for the dogs...just because I need a snack...

Until our next field observation, I remain,
Dog Lover @ 30,000 Feet

P.S. Note to self, must travel with emergency supply of Doggie Downers...one for the dog...ten for me...

P.P.S. To the man in 7A...please invest in new headphones. If I wanted to listen to Metallica's "Enter Sandman" and "Fade to Black" for two hours straight, surely I would have downloaded them myself...maybe you were trying to drown out the barking and yapping...I will give you a pass this time...

Here's a picture of my tormentors....let's call him, Spartacus...