Airborne Godless Absolution

I thought I had it made, making my flight reservations the day before, finding one with only one "layover" each way and under a gazillion dollars. (As it turns out, Southwest seems to think that if you don't have to get off of the plane, it isn't a layover).

Yet to learn the SW "Layover" Rule and still in a grateful frame of mind, I boarded my "final" flight of the day in Chicago, the second to last passenger to do so, yet exclusively (I would imagine) loaded down with laptop, takeout, bottle of water, and hot chocolate.

I spotted a middle seat close to the front and went for it. This choice was more than inauspicious, as in so doing I had chosen to sit next to two of the stupider men on the plane. (Again, personal inference).

Precariously edging into this seat, I could sense the hot beverage about to fall.

"Help, please," I entreated the man next to the window.

Ignoring the steaming hot chocolate I was referring to and it's position teetering on my laptop case, the man grabbed the skinny black bag instead. I watched in slow motion as the hot, creamy liquid spilled all over my laptop bag, my pants, and both mine and the aisle seat. Interestingly enough, the hot chocolate didn't hit the dolt at all.

The man who had stood up to let me into the row just stood there.

"I am so sorry. I'll be right back," I promised as I ran towards the cockpit for paper towels.

Due to the incompetent boobery I was met with there, it took me a healthy 85 seconds to get back to the row with the napkins. The fat, unamused man was still standing in the same place, scowling. He continued to scowl down at me as I scrambled to wipe up his seat, and then my own. It seemed weirdly apprpriate to look up from my crouched position and plead,

"Uhm, is that OK?"

I didn't, of course. But I'm not sure I've ever had to fight a similar urge.

I was mortified. I didn't even take the used paper towels back to the front, I just stuffed them in the pocket in front of me. Mr Fat Aisle Seat seemed pretty anxious to sit back down.

It wasn't until much later, after take-off, that I began to feel less guilty and embarrassed. At that point, the Peevish Potbelly pulled out Ann Coulter's "Godless."

I suddenly felt absolved, somehow. No wonder he scowls so much.