Hey Butthead! I've Your Bomb Right Here!

Can you believe the recent terrorist plot foiled in the UK the other day? I mean, these cowards were going to blow up airplanes full of people heading to the USA for what reason again? I get so confused. Is it religion? Is it a pissing contest with President Bush? Or is it the promise that after death they will be rewarded with the love of 10,000 virgins? I don’t know about you but the promise of post mortem love from a dead virgin does nothing for me and wouldn’t prompt me to even slap another person let alone blow them up. But I’m particularly picky I suppose.

If these uncreative cowards want to put fear into the hearts of people they should scatter a plane with individuals who chain smoke and are going to suffer severe nicotine with drawl on long haul flights. This happened to me on my recent flight home from New Zealand and let me tell you, 12 hours next to a woman who bites the seat in front of her is pretty scary.
I always get stuck next to the weirdoes and freaks on long haul flights. Granted I could be considered a freak because I require an aisle seat for my constant trips to the bathroom and the way I have a panic attack if trapped in the dreaded middle seat, but at least my list of freakish characteristics does not include spending 12 hours keeled over in my seat white knuckling the useless tiny airplane pillow and verbalizing my wish for a quick death. This is what I put up with on my flight home.

Her and her husband looked harmless enough, if you excuse the fact that they were American, but I should have known something was wrong when just before we took off the woman turned to her husband and growled “Just punch me in the face and knock me unconscious.”

The husband spent the majority of the flight fingering his goatee, perhaps contemplating how he could dispose of her body if it came to that. There is nothing more annoying than seeing a constant movement out of the corner of your eye that causes you to glance over every minute just to see what it is even though you know damn well its some jackass pleasuring his facial hair.

For the next 12 hours I witnessed some pretty horrible things during this woman’s with drawl. There was hair pulling, face grabbing, muffled wailing and of course the short temper. The last of which I experienced twice when I didn’t get out of my seat fast enough for her to go to the bathroom and, I suspect, secretly cut herself to release some of the pain.

Who needs to use bombs when there are cigarettes?!