Come Fly With Me/ Why The Wife Wants Separate Seats

Come Fly With Me/Why The Wife Wants Separate Seats

Okay, I may not be the easiest guy to travel with but really, separate seats? I thought it was just bad luck or a lousy system that made the airlines seat us separately lately. That is until The Wife fessed up to her tricks and admitted it was intentional that we are on opposite sides and ends of the airplane. Here are a few reasons why.

First it starts right at the beginning at the check-in counter. Excuse me but I’m trying to work it here. I never get up-graded. Oh, I’ve tried, I’ve just never succeeded. A quick tip here: if you’re trying to claim you’re newlyweds, have your rings cleaned before the trip. It also helps if your spouse is not mad and glaring at you. Would a little affection be too much to ask while I’m scamming for a free upgrade?

They say the squeaky wheel gets the grease, well boy can I squeak. I tend to be vocal about everything. Yes, I have a mouth and I know how to use it. Like the time the customs agent asked if I had anything to declare. I railed on about my socio-economic-political beliefs for a good 10 minutes before she shut me down and sent me on my way.  They never did search my bags though.

If there is a child on board, he or she will be seated right behind me. Usually the screaming, hair grabbing and tears begin shortly after takeoff. After about 10 minutes or so though, the Wife has calmed me down and I’m okay after that. The kids on the other hand are fine; it’s just that without her sitting next to me, there’s no one to calm me down.

For some reason, Stewardesses hate me. I have found, for one, don’t call them Stewardesses. They prefer Flight Attendant, Cabin Attendant or just Miss or Sir. They don’t care for Waitress, Barmaid or my ever-popular “Hey You.” Also, note to self: just because you may think they are only a lousy waitress in a crappy bar in the sky, maybe you shouldn’t vocalize that. Also lay off the drunken pilot drinking jokes. You don’t know how many times I’ve asked “Is this plane a Boeing 7&7?” or “Can I buy the flight crew another round?” The Wife sure knows how many times.

Yes, I am a fidgeter. I once tried one of those over-the-counter sleep aids. Now I know what they mean by restless leg syndrome. The poor guy on my left never said a word, but you can be assured the wife did. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, that was the last time we sat together.

Okay, okay, I admit it: I’m cheap. See above about upgrade scams. I hate paying for what used to be free, so I bring my own lunch. Actually I bring it for everyone. I once was able to cover the cost of my rental car just by selling off the extra Whoppers I wisely brought along. Don’t forget the extra onions.

I snore, she snores. When she snores, she wakes herself up. When I snore, she wakes me up too. Why wake me up? When I’m snoring I’m not scamming, screaming, complaining, whining, insulting, tearing out hair or fidgeting.

©Michael Ryan