As some of you know, we went on a trip to France this summer and we just got back a few days ago.  In the last installment, I was in the process of getting sloshed on the plane with the hope of passing out getting some sleep.  In case you missed them, here are the first few articles about the trip:

Part One      Part Deux      Part Trois

The trip continues, Part IV:

The free wine supplied by Lufthansa (Part Trois) was nice and I figured for once in my life, I would sleep on a plane. I also had our older son next to me and he is a much better sleeper than the younger.  The younger thrashes about, kicks, and sometimes even screams.  None of that with the older—he just snores like a drunken sailor, but I made him promise he wouldn’t on the plane like any good parent would (today’s parenting tip: point out your kid’s undesirable traits or habits, embarrass them, and then make them swear they won’t do it again—let their therapists work through it when they are 30). After my wife made the statement that they had to go to sleep, my son was out in a matter of seconds, with his head in my lap.  If it wasn’t such a “this is the great thing about being a parent” moment, I probably would have hated him for being able to sleep on a plane so easily since my plan of an alcohol induced slumber was no where close to becoming reality.

Part of the reason I hate flying and can’t sleep on planes is all the other people on the plane.  Don’t get me wrong, I like people.  Just not these people.  There are several different types of people on an over night plane.  There are the instant sleepers (I despise them so much I can’t write another word about them); the chatters (never stop talking the moment they get on the plane) and the laughers (a subset of the chatters—they laugh so loud just to make sure that everyone on the plane knows they just heard the funniest story and no one else is in on the joke—they were probably bullied in high school, I figure, and are trying to get back at everyone); the bladders (up every three minutes to go to the toilet—for some reason these people also insist on the window seat); and the absolute worst of them all, the grabbers (these are the people that can only get their huge carcasses out of their seats by yanking on yours—I partially blame this on the flight attendants. Instead of taking the time to show us AGAIN how to buckle a seat belt, show people that you get out of an airplane seat the same way you get your rotund butt out of every other seat—YOU USE YOUR OWN ARMRESTS!! [Are there really people out there who don’t know how to operate the seat belt or couldn’t at least figure it out? It’s not like trying to figure out how to land the plane for chrissakes, it’s a SEAT BELT.  Instead, take that time to teach passengers something useful. Maybe a bit of history, how to multiply fractions, how to thwart an irate passenger wielding a corkscrew, something.  We get the seat belt thing already]).

I thought that was pretty much the end of my list until this flight.  Now there is another: the person that keeps their own individual light on all night. There was one of them directly over my shoulder.  First she read with her light on.  OK fine. Then she did some crossword puzzle in a book that  looks like she bought during the Truman administration, with her light on.  Then she started working on her computer.  With her light on.  Really?  Isn’t your computer lit?!?  I have news for you: It isn’t a typewriter. Why on earth do you need your light on to type? She left that stupid thing on ALL NIGHT.  She did not turn off the light until we were about to land.  How do I know all this was going on?  Easy, I kept turning around, in hopes of letting her know that I was less than happy with her nocturnal habits.  First was the scornful look.  Then the judgmental head shake.  The prolonged stare.  I even ramped it up to the audible sigh and the disgusted head shake (much more forceful and dramatic than the judgmental head shake).  There is no doubt she saw me (since her light was shinning straight in my face), but none of this worked.  And I got no sleep AGAIN.  Good thing we are landing and then driving about 300 miles right away.  It should be no problem staying awake given that my wife and kids will all be sleeping as soon as we hit the highway.  Thus, I was a little upset.  My plan was to try and ‘accidentally’ trip the broad at the baggage claim as some sort of poetic revenge, but I wussed out.

As you have no doubt noticed, I do not just have a pet peeve or two, I have a whole stinking zoo.

The saga continues: Part Cinq