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I’m headed home, my last stop is 27F.
27A & 27B two teenage brothers, 27C aisle, 27D open (score!), 27E late 40’s mother, 27F stolen by 27D, a father in his late 40’s. Now seat stealing isn’t a major offense in my world. It’s two and a half hours of my life, so window, aisle, I can deal either way.
But you probably shouldn’t steal my seat, splitting up your family, then proceed to talk to and pass shit over me across the aisle to your family.
My petty, passive-aggressive streak kicks in. 27F refuses to open the window shade on a sunny afternoon when we’re headed for a cloudy, rainy destination. I click on my reading lights. 27E, clearly cold and trying to sleep, so I crank my air point it only half on me, half on her left arm and proceed bang on my laptop keyboard for the next hour.
Paradise comes with a price that you must be prepared to pay.
