Getting There is Half the Fun, Not!

Dear Reader,

There are so many great stories to tell about meeting people and seeing new places but once in awhile I feel compelled to talk about the misery of getting there or back home again. We've all been through it, especially since 911, so I'm sure everyone can relate to this airplane travel story.

Just when you think that all your plans are working perfectly, the first flight is on time and actually not miserably uncomfortable, the service was better than usual, you begin to relax and think about getting home and sleeping for 24 hours when, boom, it all goes awry. This has happened to me more times than I can count so there's no point in going into details about long layovers, cancelled flights, lost luggage, etc. Everyone has been through it at least once.

I'd rather look at the peculiar aspects of a bad travel day and laugh about them later. On one particular trip we were on our way home from Europe and had a plane change in Chicago. I don't recall where we were coming from, probably, Frankfurt, but we were tired and sleepy and hungry. Our connection was relatively short so we didn't have time to relax and eat and have a beer. Instead we bought hamburgers to take with us.

When we arrived at the gate it was a real zoo. That's when we realized there was no aircraft yet. But they announced it would arrive shortly so we were told not to leave the gate. As we stood around swaying to stay afoot because there wasn't a single seat not taken by a body or their luggage, I couldn't help but notice a young rather obese couple making out a few feet away from me. In fact, they were really going at it. And when they weren't she was climbing all over him while he snorted. It was peculiar to say the least. In fact, they both kept snorting over and over again. I started to gag so I tried to move as far away from them as possible.

They too had hamburgers which they smacked loudly while snorting away. I kept wishing they would get some tissues and blow their noses! But, alas, that was not to be. Evidently, tissues are a rare commodity where they come from. Somehow the sound of this snorting and smacking and kissing seemed to overcome all the ambient noises in the area. Maybe it was just that we were both so exhausted and seriously dead on our feet but John started to get mad.

Once our aircraft arrived I couldn't wait to get on board just to sit down and also to get away from the snorting, smacking couple. Everyone exited the plane fairly quickly. I watched the handlers unload and then load all of our baggage aboard. The cleaning crew raced aboard and off again and still we didn't board. The crowd was getting angry. There was no explanation for any further delays yet we stood there and stood there smelling our hamburgers which were cold by then and listening to the sounds of constant snorting.

Finally the attendant announced that they were having a problem with a passenger and were attempting to get him off of the plane and once that was accomplished we could board. It had been over an hour already so I assumed the worst, like he had died or was in the middle of a fit and needed medical treatment before being moved. We all stood around and waited anxiously to see what the crisis was. After another half hour passed, I really didn't care anymore what had happened to the guy and began to hope he was dead afterall. I know, how terrible am I? But I was so exhausted.

I believe we had had to get up that morning at 3:00AM to catch a vaporetto to the bus station in Venice in order to make the bus to the airport for a 7:00AM flight to Frankfurt that day. (Never again will I book such an early flight coming home from Europe.) It was now 10:00PM Chicago time and we were still facing a five hour flight home to Sacramento. This type of travel is hard and takes its toll on your patience.

We saw a guy pushing a strange looking folding wheelchair onto the plane but he didn't come back with anyone. Finally two attendants, followed by the first gentleman, came off the plane pushing a guy in the same tiny folding wheelchair. It was not the typical wheelchairs they keep at the gate for wheelchair passengers. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with the gentleman at all. After he was away from the vicinity, and I gather out of ear range, the attendant thanked us for our patience and advised that the problem was that he refused to get into their wheelchair. He insisted that his wheelchair be brought to him onto the plane before he would leave. Evidently, this took awhile, as we witnessed. I wanted to kill him now. It's a good thing I am a strong believer in gun control.

We finally got to board the aircraft. It was my least favorite of the aircrafts that we typically fly, a 757, which is a wide body but still has three seats on either side. The bulkhead was booked up in advance so we had reserved isle seats across from each other. The isles are so narrow on modern aircrafts that you are practically sitting together anyway. Plus, I don't need to climb over anyone to go to the toilet.

We were so happy to be sitting and finally get to eat our cold hamburgers that we started to sing our song, "Life is Worth Living Again" when I saw them coming, the snorters. I held my breath and waited for them to pass but life was determined to have the joke on me that day and the girl walked up to me and said "Those are our seats", pointing at the window and middle seat next to me. Of course. I should have known. I wanted to cry but was too tired to even do that.

For the next five hours I tried as hard as I could not to listen to the constant snorting. After each snort they would wipe their noses with the backs of their hands. Once again the gag reflex was getting to me. I tried unsuccessfully to eat my hamburger but couldn't. I couldn't swallow. I tried wearing headsets and turning my music up to a blasting level but could still hear their snorting and see their wiping.

As soon as the seat belt sign went off I bolted for the toilet and grabbed a handful of tissues. Then I returned to my seat and offered the tissues to the girl snorter sitting next to me. She looked confused. I told her I thought they might like to blow their noses. She still didn't get it. So I offered one to her boyfriend or husband and he just took it and stuffed it into the back of the seat in front of him. So much for that idea.

So I finally gave up, put my headsets back on, didn't try to read my book and closed my eyes hoping it would all end soon. There's no moral to this story or even a reason for it. I just don't get people sometimes. It would drive me crazy if my nose was running for hours on end and not do anything about it. All I could think was these people need to travel more, to meet more people and get more exposure to society at large and perhaps some good manners might rub off on them. You never know, do you?

Happy trails to you all.