Chasing The Sun

As I write this, I’m high above the vast monotony of Tennesee, racing the setting sun back to the family I have missed so much while I worked this week to keep my job. I’m fully aware how much of a pansy I sound like when I say that it has been a stressful, emotional week, and I am unbelievably happy to be on my way to a halloween party to re-unite with my wife, Superman and a Fairy.

I did have some fun this week though…ate half my weight in sushi and concerned several friends with my ability to alternate coffee with vodka depending on the sun’s position in the sky. A long time friend and co-worker thought it would be fun to convince people at a hibachi grill that it was my birthday, something I strongly objected to right up to and including the point where the restaurant began to sing Happy Birthday, and the ice cream came out. But then the high point, a beautiful little japanese girl, roughly 3 years old, was so caught up in my fake birthday celebration that she came over to help me blow out my candle and clap for me, and I rewarded her by handing over my ice cream.

She went home with the memory of eating her ice cream before her dinner, and I take home an amazing memory of the best birthday I ever didn’t have.

I look out the window now, and Tennesee is gone. Once a habitual flier, I now find this form of travel, even though ooccasional, unbelievably annoying. And yet, I am returning home in a fine mood thanks to breezing past TSA, managing to grab the last window seat on an extremely full flight, and the following exchange I just had with a passenger…hope you enjoy as much as I did.

I sat in my window seat, and a gentleman counterpart who had the aisle seat followed me into the row. A minute later, a woman stopped in front of us, motioned at the middle seat next to me, and the middle seat in the row behind us.

She said, looking at my counterpart, and then me, “Those are our seats, but we were hoping to sit together. Will one of you move so we can sit together?”

The gentleman and I looked at each other, smiled briefly, and I asked, “You have the two middle seats?”

“Yes.”

The gentleman looked at me again, but said nothing. I replied as politely as I could, “I’m sorry, but I don’t really want to sit in a middle seat for the next 3 hours.”

I have a tendency to cut to the chase.

The woman paused, looked at me and yelled, “OH AWESOME. WE’RE GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW, AND NOW WE CAN’T SIT NEXT TO EACH OTHER!!”

My counterpart and I looked at each other one last time, and although somehwat taken aback, grinned, and went back to our activities. Ultimately a woman seated behind me agreed to give up her window seat to allow the couple to sit next to each other, and Bridezilla promptly went to sleep in her middle seat next to her “fiance” (alleged), and they havent spoken in over two hours. Do I feel bad about not giving up my seat? No. Am I glad I don’t have to sit next to that woman for the entire flight? Absolutely. I am only bothered by one thing.

I will now have to live out my life knowing there is someone out there who is more sarcastic than I am.

Thanks for stopping by, friends…I missed you.