This post is for those of you who were stuck beside an unhygienic person on the plane with no empty seats for you to switch into. So you have to sit there and marinate in the funk. This one goes to you! I feel your pain.
On my weekly commute to New York I settled nicely into my window seat amped to watch my Real Housewives of New York reruns. I pulled my tray table down and unwrapped my turkey on rye sandwich only to feel a wind disperse over me and my sandwich. I looked at the aisle seat and saw a dirty pillow plopped on the aisle seat, I looked up just saw a large belly peeping out from under a T-shirt. My seatmate had arrived.
I looked at my sandwich and I just couldn’t eat it anymore. Who knows what spores traveled from that pillow and made it onto my sandwich?
At around 6 feet tall, my seatmate was easily knocking 300 pounds, bald, white and wearing a tight black T-shirt and black sweat pants. Thank fully the middle seat between us was empty and the only empty seat on the plane. He sat down with his mystery novel and Blackberry. I had hoped that plopping down that dirty pillow beside me (rendering my ‘wich uneatable) was the last nasty thing he would do. For the next two hours and thirty minutes, I was painfully proven wrong.
After take off the shoes came off. Then the socks. He crossed his ankle over his knee, barefoot towards me and scratched the sole of his feet repeatedly. I looked down on my black jeans and saw dry skin flakes. How did they travel all way over to my side? If I pressed myself any closer to the fuselage I would have caused a dent.
My purse was on the seat as my protective barrier. Little good did it do when he blew his nose loudly into his handkerchief, checked out his contribution, then threw said handkerchief onto my purse. I immediately and gingerly removed my purse to put it on the floor, (making a mental note to wipe it down with anti-bacterial wipes) only to see that his bare foot had taken residence under the middle seat. I pressed up even closer against the window. He was getting closer and closer.
I looked over at my seatmate. How can someone be so oblivious to their nastiness? I noticed a wedding ring. Someone married, (gulp) that? That is someone’s husband? What is living with him like? I imagine it would be like maintaining a waste plant. At this point we were just 40 minutes in the air and I desperately needed the plane to land. I secretly hoped for a medical diversion, anything to get me away from this turd of a man.
Here are the highlights from the next 1hour and 50minutes.
1. I saw flashes of butt crack every time he bent over to get something out his bag.
2. Constant ball picking/itching.
3. Coughing with mouth open.
4. Nose picking and flicking the buggers into the aisle, then using same hand to change the channel on his TV.
This guy makes me want to Lysol every seat will ever have to sit in for the rest of my life.
When we started to descend turned to put fasten my seat belt. It was laying snugly under his snot filled handkerchief. And there it stayed. I was willing face turbulence, the airplane swaying and hard landing. I. Was. Not. Touching. That. Seat belt.
As we pulled into the gate, he got up and it was if I had just come up for air from freestyle diving. The aircraft door opened and I felt cool air wafting in. Then I was full frontal with his belly, this time his pubes made an appearance as he grabbed his suitcase from the overhead. As he was walking out a kid bumped him, the mother apologized to which he replied scratching his armpit, “Don’t worry about it, I have seven kids.”
Someone slept with him…..SEVEN TIMES?!!!!