There is the elderly woman, overly made up with her ill-fitting wig that self-righteously jumps the queue. Back off granny, I’m just as tired as waiting as you are. The Fabinani-suited businessmen that would put hurdlers to shame when check-in for a flight is moved to another counter. The crush of ticket-flapping travelers waiting for the gate to open and of course the ones behind you when boarding and disembarking a plane.
They’re a special kind of quiet violent. I know that the only reason that they hold back from flattening you and using you to wipe their shoes on, is because they know they’d be arrested. Instead they find release in acts of subtle (they would call it accidental) barbarity like catching you behind the knees with their laptop bags. There isn’t enough space for a roundhouse kick, so they’ll settle for klaping the back of your head as they store their carry on in the overhead compartment. And even though you’re in the row in front of them, they’ll find a way, short of climbing over your chair and kneeing you in the groin, to get into the aisle and off the plane before you – all it takes is a swift blocking maneuver with their hang luggage, so you can’t even get up in your seat.
I’ve seen people shoot out of their chair, seconds after landing, reaching for their stash, so they’re off the plane first. The plane hasn’t even parked! If I was the pilot, I’d hit the brakes, just for fun and watch them domino rally down to the door. But I'm spiteful that way.
But when I'm at the airport, all I can do is plug in my earphones (The Magnetic Fields are perfect for such occasions) and brace myself. I might make it out scratched and limping, but if I play it right, I’ll make it out alive.
And I’ll let you in on a little secret, a well-positioned porti bag is a great shield. Okay, okay, weapon. But only in self-defense!
No comments:
Post a Comment