planes, trains and automobiles. actually just planes

On Tuesday I traveled home from school for the first time since moving there August 15, 2009. I had been growing quite tired of hickory (who woulda thought?) and I really needed this break. I encountered many things so far on my first homecoming but I’ll start off with my flight home for right now.

As everyone does, I was sitting in the terminal eyeing the fellow passengers waiting to board the plane. I noticed a family of screaming children and strung out parents who had no control of those kids. I added them to the mental list of people whom I hope I don’t sit by. Then my eyes scanned to a group of girls, close to my age, all seeming to be anywhere from very attractive to decently attractive. I added them to my mental list of people whom I hope I end up sitting by. While I’m scanning the crowd I hear a raspy old grumpy voice say “get that hippie to move his drink so we can sit down.” I quickly looked around to see the hippie whom the old bag was talking about, not seeing one; I grabbed my drink and took a sip. As soon as I lifted my cup off the seat next to me a fat butt squeezed tightly into a pair of old slacks dropped into the seat like it had been dropped from 10 storied above. The entire line of seats shook, and so did my mind as I realized I was the hippie the old lady was talking about. Now I admit, I have longer hair, but I was not wearing tie dye and marijuana was no where near my body, so calling me a hippie was completely uncalled for.

Sooner than I can wrap my head around the idea of being called a mean name by someone born during the depression, the plane began boarding. As I waited in line I began to find more people whom I wouldn’t mind sitting by; guy with laptop watching stepbrothers, overdressed, but attractive girl, etc. I made my way to my seat, past the smug first classers, already sipping on their tea and resting their head on pillows. As I made my way from the first class section to my seat I began to realize there are other, unofficial “classes” on planes.

You see, the people who sit up front, just behind the first class, might as well be the first class because they get to board first, they get off first, and I’m sure every now and then a stray cookie makes its way from first class to the front few coach rows.

Then you have the middle of the plane, or the “emergency exit” class. These people have a sweet deal because they get to stretch their legs and in the common case where the plane crashes and you are somehow able to escape, they got the best chance of getting out before the thing explodes.

And finally, there’s the back or the “ghetto” of the plane. Sure you have a short walk to the bathroom, but you also have the aroma of poop flushed into a tank with a miniscule amount of water. It takes half an hour to actually get off the plane once and lands and you are last to get your snacks from the flight attendant. The worst part is, you think you’d get your snack first because the flight attendant camp is in the back, but no.. they bring the cart to the front and work their way back.

When I got closer to my seat I knew who I would be sitting by. I had already passed the girls, the strung out family, and the guy watching stepbrothers, and I see one opening next to the old couple who had judged my character just minutes before. Sure enough, my seat, 25F was tucked in right next to the old couple, in the ghetto.

I made the head nod acknowledging my seat was the one they were obstructing and neither of them moved. They both looked at me as if I was telling them the early bird special was from here by cancelled permanently. Eventually, when they realized they had no other choice, they got up and let me sit down. The smell of ben-gay and baby powder filled my nose and for the rest of the trip, complaints filled my ears. “It is too dark in here I can’t see!” “When is that stewardess, I’m thirsty!” “This flight is too long, we could have driven it in this amount of time.” “This is horrible turbulence, I might never fly again.” The complaints flew faster than the plane and my iPod could not go any louder. This couple could possibly be more bitter than Jon and Kate Gosselin.

When the plane landed, my favorite thing happened as it does on every flight I have ever been on. The seat belt light went off and everyone on the plane stood up. It amazes me that people in the back of the plane insist on standing hunched over with their head wrenched to the front of the plane to see how long they have to wait. Do they really think standing up with your back hunched under the air vents is going to get them off the plane faster? Oh well. I will update you on the rest of my trip home when I get the chance. Over and out.

psychology makes me go insane

I am currently blogging because I am in a 2 hour Psychology class and the internet is down. So to keep my sanity, I will be writing nonsense to occupy my time. Just to give you the setting, my class has 26 students in it (my largest class) and a young man in the front is wearing a fedora. My professor, although a nice man, has the exact same personality as Milton from Office Space. His breathing resembles that of a bulldog after an afternoon of playing fetch. He has the blackest, bushiest eyebrows you’ll ever see and a thin gray comb over above that forest-like eyebrow situation.

A sigh of relief just washed over the room as the internet connection has just came back. I’ll keep writing though, because no one is on facebook to talk to and I can tell the girl behind me is reading what I write. Now, likely she is embarrassed and will look away for a second as if I am watching her, but the truth is she won’t be able to look away now because she won’t know what I’m saying about her. The girl next to me is one of those she’d-be-hot-if-she-didn’t-wear-windbreakers-to-class kinda girls. I mean seriously, a windbreaker…really? I know they’re practical but can you really stand the sound of whooshing with every move you make? I’ll take a brisk breeze through my hoodie over a fluorescent colored garment that blocks some of the wind any day.

Another trend I have not yet been able to wrap my mind around is girls wearing rain boots. I understand it is raining, but really are you that tempted to jump into a puddle that you need to get waterproof boots up to your knee? From Where I am sitting I can count 7 girls wearing these. The girl to my left has leopard print, LL Bean Brand rain boots, but get this: there’s a heal on them. What is the purpose of this? Added discomfort? Attempted achilles tendon shrinking? Here’s a rule of thumb: Are you going fly-fishing? No? Is there a flood? No? Then leave the boots in the closet and put on your flip-flops and go out the door. I’m tired of people trying to be trendy and unique. Unique is not wearing something weird that everyone wears. That ruins the uniqueness and just makes you a lame follower.

The girl in front of me to my left is playing Solitaire. She has 3 moves that I can see from here that she can perform, but she appears to be flabbergasted at the situation she is faced with.

A young man a few seats up to my right is currently Skyping with whom I assume to be his girlfriend. She also appears to be in a classroom and they are just smiling at each other with this look on their faces as if what they’re doing is so naughty that its funny.

As cliché as it is to make a Farmville joke, I will anyways. The ginger a few rows over is currently plowing his fields or something of the sort on Farmville. He is also chatting with what appears to be 4-5 friends on Facebook at the same time. It reminds me of a busy businessman the way he’s working and answering messages ever so frantically.

The girl to my left and 4 seats up is on looking at someone’s pictures on myspace. Did I just time travel to 2006? If she opens up her AIM buddy list I’ll lose my marbles.

Update: Solitaire girl is still staring at her solitaire game like Nicolas Cage staring at the Declaration of Independence looking for a secret code. I hope she is asleep or she is just a moron.

Windbreaker girl is currently looking at graduation pictures on that website that they send to you on a postcard after graduation. She clearly misses high school. That or she is as bored as I am. Or maybe she is looking for a new way to protect herself from the cold, one that is a little less 90’s perhaps?

Well I can tell Professor Milton is winding this lecture down, maybe he’ll let us out early so he can go burn the school down. That’d be convenient for me. I might live blog my classes more often from now on. I doubt anyone will be interested in it. But at least I will be entertained. Over and Out.