As we approached our gate to check in, the lovely woman informed us that we didn't have assigned seats, but instructed that we should hold onto these large strips of taut navy blue plastic with numbers upon them. As it would turn out, South West had put as much thought into our comfort as any venue for a General Admisson concert would. The attendants divided the whole group into smaller sections of 30 people and stood us before the door like cattle. When boarding began, they unleashed the first wave to battle out with their peers who would have the cherished aisle seats and access to the windows. Alas, as our luck would have it, the three ready-made lines that went from 1-30, 31-60, 61-90 did not include our lucky numbers of 96 and 97. It made me ponder if they had oversold the flight and just were the sadistic type of bastards to let us stand in wait for 20 minutes only to have dreams and appointments dashed to smitherines.
With a glance and chuckle our male flight attendant humorously told us that we were now allowed on with the cool phrase, "Saving the best for last." I was in awe of his witty remark, so much so that an 8 year old ran me over with what I believe was a suitcase full of Barbies. There is our future folks.
Ah, but that isn't the end of it. After I knocked that child down with my overly stuffed backpack and trampled her older brother in the same fashion, my aunt and I had settled down in the safety exit row (for those of you who don't fly much, there is extra leg room in that spot). Success, or so we thought, until we realized our prized seats were perched against a wall, thus making the precious few inches a seat can recline backwards, nearly impossible. In addition, we were able to see everyone's shinning face. How could we accomplish such a feat? We were backwards...
Yes, backwards, looking straight at everyone, everyone we had plowed down. None seem to hold their grudge for too long when they understood the horror in our eyes. Rocketing backwards at a few hundred miles per hour after eating a heavy meal will make just about anyone sick. So went the pallor of my companion from her normal amber hue to that of a sickened frog.
Well into the flight I noticed an Asian woman staring at me above what I believe was a Chinese prayer book. I am still not sure if I should take that as an insult; watching me aghast and reading prayers. Granted I didn't exactly have time to make myself drop dead gorgeous, but ogress, I was not.
The rest of our flight went pretty well, until I decided to eat the roasted peanuts. They promptly wanted to remove themselves from my stomach after being consumed. They almost decorated the nice staring woman before me, pity they didn't. Never eat the peanuts folks.