Since my boss and I were both flying to NYC, and we both had a 1 pm flight leaving from Minneapolis, we were both flying Delta/ Northwest. I thought it was safe to assume we were on the same flight. Wrong.
15 minutes before our flight is set to depart (i.e. 12:45) we roll up to our gate in terminal F. To my horror, it says MSP to JFK, leaving at 1 PM. I frantically ask the flight attendant, did they change the arrival airport for this flight?
They didn't.
My flight was leaving out of gate C. That's right, 4 gates away. 15 minutes till take off.
Without so much of a buh bye I leave my boss at the gate and start sprinting to my gate. I am out of shape and lugging the pully suitcase and computer bag was not an added plus. 4.5 minutes later I arrive at my gate as they say "Last call....". As I rush onto the plane I realize my lungs are burning but... I made it so no biggie.
Wrong.
As I approach my seat I see I am sitting next to a nutty professor look alike: 65, with poorly died black hair, hipster sunglasses and 3 layers of clothing (mind you it's summer). Oh yeah, and converse sneakers.
Great, I'm next to a crazy.
Right.
As I settle in my seat, I feel eyes burning into me. I think, "Please don't talk to me, please don't talk to me."
"Ahem." (The nutty professor speaks). "Could you please cough less and cover your mouth. I don't want to get some disease I don't know about."
I reply, "Of course, I'm so sorry!" (squeaky, embarrassed girl voice).
Turns out my burning lungs were resulting in mini-coughs.
The saga does not end there.
Crazy man abruptly turns and sits sideways in his seat. Picture back to me, legs in the asile.
At this point I am still trying to stem the dry throat coughs. But, his next action ends this courtesy.
A flight attendant walks by and asks him to take his legs out of the aisle. He says, "But she's coughing." LOUDLY. Plane humiliation. She says, "I'm sorry, but I can't help with that."
The man grumpily returns to normal seated position and we take off. However, AS SOON AS we are allowed to "move about the cabin," he jumps up and runs to the bathroom. He returns with a tissue.
Yep. a tissue.
Sitting down again he proceeds to use the tissue as a mask to protect against my coughs. By now, I'm coughing up a storm for the fun of it.
I think I piss him off. Abruptly he jumps up, grabs his bag and yanks out a notebook. He starts scribling furiously.
Thinking, "This is gonna be good," I start spying. It is.
"As I travel more, I realize the French have it right. Americans are middling idiots..." And so begins his 5 page legal pad diatribe.
Know who stars in paragraph 2? Yours truly. "Americans show no courtesy. I am sitting next to a rude woman who refuses to cover her mouth. She coughs like she has tuberculosis." Score one for me :).
The essay goes on and on as he complains about every aspect of plane travel, from security to coach class.
He concludes his note with a few demands:
"From now on when I travel to engagements I will require the following things:
- First class travel, I will not sit coach
- $1,000 inconvenience payment
- $250 so that I can buy clothing at my destination and not carry baggage
- Black cab drop off and pick up
- ...
- ....
- ...
Finally, I believe airports should screen for sick people. If a person dares come to the airport twice sick, their ticket should be revoked and the should receive no refund."
Throwing in a few more coughs, I smiled and then took a nap.
True story.
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