Airplane Etiquette

Because I’ve never been shy about giving my opinion (surprise!) I’m going to launch right into this one: what the hell is wrong with people today?! Sorry, too broad, so I’ll be more specific: what the hell is wrong with people on airplanes? Doesn’t anyone teach their kids basic manners or even better, the concept that there is someone else on the planet besides them?

I’m referring to the charmers who sat next to my on my flight home from Colorado. I get being economical and not wanting to pay $6 for a sandwich that was probably prepared a week ago at a factory in Sri Lanka but do you really think it is appropriate to plough through a 5lb bag of hickory smoked beef jerky on a plane that is full? Before I even got to my row I thought someone’s child had thrown up and they better get that mess taken care asap before there was a chain reaction amongst the passengers but no, it was my row mates happily jawing away on thick strips of the most noxious non-food on the planet.

OK, so I would try and deal with that, please just let me get my small rolling backpack into the overhead bin. I checked my bigger bag because that is what you are supposed to do but, again, I seem to be the only person paying attention because the overhead bins are all full- even though I’m in a front row which has not been completely seated yet. So, any number of rude, selfish, over-packing pishers from the back of the plane have filled our overhead bins. I stand, blocking the aisle, and contemplate throwing a fit or at least calling over an attendant and asking them to identify the passengers in our rows who own the items in the bins. Instead, I start grinding my teeth and jam my bag under my seat meaning that despite my efforts to follow the rules I now have nowhere to stretch my legs (I’m 5’9”) during the two hour flight.

After settling into my seat and pointedly pulling my sweater up over my nose I am treated to a Portland granola head (I live here and can say that kind of thing) who lopes down the aisle and catching sight of the scant 2” of bin space left over my head decides that his 45lb backpack WILL fit in there. He begins cramming it into the impossibly small space and its myriad of long nylon straps begin hitting me in the face. Not once, not twice, but four times as he rotates the bag, pulls it out, and starts over again; all the while completely oblivious to the fact that there is anyone on the plane but him. Finally, I grab a strap and ask him please to stop hitting me. The response is a look of mixed puzzlement and irritation and his reply is “I’m trying to get my backpack in here.” Really?! Do you think I give a shit? It won’t fit, you’re an idiot, now just check it like any decent human being would have done in the first place.

Finally, everyone is settled. My companions have finished the jerky and are now chomping on sunflower seeds and Twizzlers- again, the 5lb bags. Is there an impending food storage about which I didn’t get the memo? My knee is already starting to twinge so I decide to have a quick look around and see if there are any empty seats. What is this?! In the row across the aisle behind me is a lone woman in the aisle seat. Hallelujah, I can wait until after take-off and move to the window seat and put all this nastiness behind me. Right. Before we even begin take-off this bitch slides over to the middle seat thereby negating any other passengers attempts to share the row. What kind of psychopath does this?! All I wanted was the window; there would still have been an empty seat between us. Now, there is no point to the window or aisle. I glare at her, clench my jaw, and am pretty sure I hear a tooth crack.

I am left with the firm belief that until teleporting (ala Star Trek) becomes a reality my travel days are over.