The Friendly Skies

We had a 4:55 return flight from Dulles Monday evening, got there early (oh, the thrill of telling your in-laws “We have to leave now,” even if it is six hours before your flight,) breezed through security, had a lovely neck massage, and then found out our flight was delayed until 6:30. Any surprise there? Certainly not. The surprise came when we had just settled in to wait and a breathless announcement came in: “Everybody get on the plane. If we can get everyone loaded and the door closed in NINE MINUTES we can leave.”

Nine Minutes. To load a 75 seat Airbus. In these troubled times, it was heartwarming to see a group of people pull together for a common goal: to get on the FUCKING PLANE. Businessmen scrambling down the jetway like chorus girls. Grown men trampling old ladies, old ladies trampling children. Carry-on bags being flung willy nilly into any compartment at hand. Thrilling.

And then we sat there. And sat there. Why? Because there was one lousy row, directly across the aisle from mrpeeneee and R Man still empty. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of an entire planeful of passengers willing the whole thing to lift off, a family with two kids strolled in, ambled down the aisle, and began setting up camp in the row as the flight crew kept chanting “Just sit down, just sit down, we can’t leave until you just sit down.”

Of course, once they actually settled in and then switched seats a couple of times, the pilot came on the PA system to announce we had missed the departure window and would be sitting at the gate for the next hour. It’s times like these when one grasps how sensible it is not to allow people to carry sharp objects onto planes. Certainly, as much as he abhors bloodshed, mrpeenee would have led the pack as we turned on those fuckers and hacked them into hamburger meat with our Swiss Army knives.