4.07.2007

venting

I wasn't going to post about this. I thought venting to Allan on the way home from the airport would suffice. But how can I not share it with you? It will make me feel that much better, and I know you'll know just what I mean.

I had a bad flight from New York to Buffalo. There was a bit of turbulence at the end, and a shaky landing, but that wasn't my problem. The problem was the rest of the passengers. As we boarded, everyone - everyone that I could see, and it seemed like the entire plane - was yammering away on cell phones. Loudly. People couldn't find their seats, or get out of each other's way, or be bothered to lift their luggage, because they were too busy talking.

When the flight attendant announced it was time to switch off electronic devices, everyone continued talking.

He announced it again, this time with feeling. No change. I saw people end their calls, then look around, see other people still talking, and make another call. People were talking in full voice, and they were all saying the same thing. "I'm on the plane, we're waiting to take off..."

There was a third announcement - this one shouted. Almost no effect.

On the fourth announcement, the flight attendant yelled, "TURN OFF YOUR CELL PHONES NOW!!! I will not ask you again! If you do not turn off your phone, we cannot depart!! You are holding up this flight. NOW TURN OFF YOUR CELL PHONES!!!"

I was waiting for someone to come around, snatch the phones and toss them into a garbage bag. I was hoping.

The plane finally took off. Now people seemed to be having a contest to see who could eat potato chips the loudest, and who could suck their teeth the most times in succession. It was very noisy. I put on my personal bubble (you know the kind), and I read, and breathed deeply.

The moment the wheels touched the runway, out came the phones! No one even waited for the "safe to use your cell phones" announcement. "I'm in the plane, we just landed..."

By the time we were taxiing to the terminal, it was a cacophony. This wasn't one call to an airport pick-up. Believe me, I own a cell phone and I know how convenient they are when you're meeting someone. But no. This was call after call after call, seemingly telling every number in their phone book, Eureka, we have arrived in Buffalo.

On my way off the plane, I was behind the young woman who had been sitting in front of me. She had entered the plane talking, blocked several people from finding their seats as she continued talking, and as far as I could tell, had been the last one to hang up after the final shouted announcement.

As she stepped off the plane onto the bridge, she suddenly came to a dead stop. Naturally she was making a phone call. Because she had stopped short, I bumped into her a little bit. I said, fairly loudly and in a pointed tone, "Excuse me," stepped around her, and continued walking. She called after me, in a shocked voice, "Are you talking to me?" I didn't break stride or look back.

I thought that was it.

Then, at the baggage carousel, I heard her voice. She was on the phone - and she was talking about me! "You wouldn't believe it! I was walking out of the plane, and this woman says, 'Get the fuck outta my way!' and she pushes me out of the way! She shoved me against a wall! My arm is all bruised! Yeah, yeah, it was some fuckin' dyke, you know, really short hair, and she says, 'Get the hell outta my way!' I know, I could not believe it, I just could not believe it!!"

Then she caught my eye, and she realized "the dyke" had heard her little fictitious tale. Her face turned three shades of purple. She stammered into her phone, lowering her voice, and slunk off to another area to continue talking.

I vented to Allan for quite a few exits on the QEW. It's good to have a partner who gets annoyed by the same stuff. We had a good laugh fantasizing what he might have said to her, or what I felt like doing.

My trip to New York was great - fast, quiet, everything on time, all modes of transportation clicking, even the MTA. That was brilliant, and I guess two for two would be too much to ask.

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