Nighty-Night

Sometimes when I don’t want to talk to people, I pretend to fall asleep. Not drift asleep gradually — I mean fall instantly asleep. It’s a *condition* I have chosen to refer to as situational narcolepsy.

I’ve never met a narcoleptic. I don’t know much anything about narcolepsy — except that Harriet Tubman suffered from it — but when I fake it, it looks a lot like this chick from Deuce Bigalow:

Most of my SN attacks happen on airplanes — when the person seated next to me has awful breath, or just awful conversation. A few months back I was sitting in between a married couple and when I realized they were together I asked them if they’d rather sit next to each other. “No,” was their response because he preferred the window and she preferred the aisle. Fine. But then they both ordered Bloody Mary’s and proceeded to talk across me to each other with their spicy ass breath, I immediately pulled down my eye mask and zonked out. It took a few minutes but they eventually respected my ‘sleep’ and shut it down.

Praise 8 lb., 6 oz newborn infant Jesus.

My latest bout with SN came yesterday on a flight from Albany GA to Atlanta. I was sitting next to what seemed like a perfectly nice dude. He ordered a Diet Coke. Fantastic. But then there was this:

GUY: So do you live in Atlanta?
ME: No, I’m actually headed home to DC.
GUY: Oh, DC? Wow. I hear they have a crazy AIDS epidemic there.
ME: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

What do you say to that? I mean really? That’s the first thing that comes to your mind when the nation’s capital is mentioned? My friend Makeda said I should have faked a paper cut or a hang nail and made a big deal out of letting the flight attendant know I needed a band-aid. Hahahahaha. I wish I thought that quick! ;)

Anyway, feel free to adopt this phrase and/or disorder. And let me know how it works for you. ;)

Turn AROUND, dude!!! You’re creepin’ me out

spookysidewalkguy

WHO DOES THIS?

Last Thursday I was in the Charlotte airport and this guy — THIS GUY — was riding the moving sidewalks facing backwards, essentially staring me dead in my face. It was the spookiest thing ever. We got off one sidewalk and he turned forward to walk to the next one. But when he got on the next one, he turned right back around and looked at me… So I took my camera out and took a photo of him just as blatantly as he was staring at me.

You may be wondering what he did next… Well I’ll tell you what he DIDN’T do — and that was turn around. Weirdest sh!t ever. I hated this guy. And so I wanted to share him with y’all. ;)

Airplane Venom, Pt. IV

This edition of Airplane Venom goes out to the loud-ass women seated in seats 9A-D, 10 A-D, & 11 B on American Airlines Flt. #2746 from Little Rock, AR to Dallas Fort Worth:

Why were you so loud? It was 5:40 in the morning when the flight took off, but y’all were already on “10” by the time you got to the waiting area. How?… Why?

I know way more about you women than I want to. I felt like I was Bill Cosby and y’all were Jeffrey:

Things I know about you but wish I didn’t: I know you “hadn’t never flew on no plane this tiny.” I know all of your astrological signs and your horoscopes for today. I know one of you was frightened to death of flying and “forgot those damn ‘Xanax-es’ on the counter.” I know you were headed to Vegas…

But what I want to know is: Which of my sins you were punishment for? So I never, ever do it again. Were you ignoring — or just oblivious to the barrage of STFU stares and huffing coming at you from every direction?… And how it’s possible that every single one of you sounded like Boomhauer from King of the Hill…

Exhale.

Have you ever seen those news stories where people do unthinkable things and their only excuse is “I don’t know what came over me?” Well, this morning, “I don’t know what” almost came over me. And I honestly don’t know how I stopped him. Those ladies have no idea how lucky they were.

THE END.

Fave Facebook Statuses #1

In an effort to keep the posting more consistent when I’m on the road, I’ve decided to begin a new feature here called Fave Facebook Statuses where I post some of my favorite status updates of the week. Some [most] will be mine, but some will belong to some of the other hilarious folks I know — provided they give me permission to do so.

This first one came about as a result of an experience I had this afternoon on my flight from Portland, ME back home. Enjoy. ;)

fb_narcolepsy

The phrase “situational narcolepsy’ is my new favorite thing. And I am going to write a bit specifically so that I can use it. Stay tuned…

And find me on FB!!! We’ll have a blast I promise ;)

Airplane Venom, Pt. III

This edition of airplane venom contains no actual venom from me, rather it chronicles the hate a fellow passenger directed at a smarty-pants flight attendant on an American Eagle puddle jumper from Chicago to Baltimore.

airplane

After back-to-back mechanical problems and more than 2 hours on the tarmac, my flight from O’Hare back to BWI had to unload and board another plane. I pretty much slept throughout the whole ordeal so I really wasn’t too upset. I didn’t have anything pressing to do yesterday afternoon, plus I’d much rather deplane because of mechanical difficulties, than have them surface during the flight.

Can I get an Amen?

When we finally got settled on the new plane, the flight attendant, Mo, got on the intercom and said the following:

“Due to the late departure, screwdrivers will be free on this flight.”

You should have seen the faces of my fellow alcoholics passengers light up. Eyes began to water as tray tables came down. Gleeful whispers filled the cabin.

“Are you serious?” someone behind me shouted out.

She responded by giggling to herself as she walked back up the aisle and shaking her head “No.”

Way to take the air of the pressurized cabin, MO!

I thought it was hilarious but there was another passenger behind me who was feeling very “not-so-much-y” — if you know what I mean. “Save the jokes for Southwest, bitch. I just missed a connection.”

I think I stopped breathing for a second. I immediately took out my notebook. I wanted to savor this perfect comedic moment so that I could share it with all of you ;) Don’t fret, the next AV installment will most certainly feature a return to my plane rage. But for now…

You’re welcome.

Airplane Venom, Pt. II

To the turd that was seated in 15-D on American Airlines Flt. 1624 to Chicago O’Hare on Wednesday evening, I have one word for you — Valium.

Best I can tell, you’re taking a nap now, and I swear I’m so tempted to get up and take a photo of you once the fasten seatbelt sign goes off. I might just. But what I’m definitely gonna do, if I can catch you on the way off the plane, is give you one of my postcards so that you can read this blog once I post it. I used to be scared to do asshole-ish stuff like that… Like right now in this moment, the conservative Erin hologram on my left shoulder is whispering in my ear and saying, “Leave it alone, E. Yeah, that guy was a douche, but don’t stoop to his level.” But the bitchy Erin on my right shoulder is screaming in my ear and saying, “Get him, E! This is great for the act. Plus it’ll serve as equilibrium for punking out on that flight from O’Hare to Baltimore a couple weeks ago.

Now I know none of you know what the heck I’m talking about so here’s the background…

I was having a fine day. Found a laundry room at the hotel and did laundry so I didn’t have to travel to Indy with dirty clothes. Got to LAX and returned the rental car with plenty of time to spare. My bag which I was positive was gonna be overweight came in at 49.5 pounds. And my large tube of Extra Dry Skin Curel made it thru airport security — What? I get a little ashy when I fly. :)

I boarded the plane and put my bookbag under the seat in front of me. I also had a small plastic bag with a sweatshirt I bought in the airport and my coat. I put the coat and the plastic bag in the bin above my head. About 5-10 minutes after I’m all settled, an older gentleman a few rows ahead of me asks if he can move my sweatshirt and coat to a bin a little forward of his seat so that he could fit his bag in the one over my head. OK, dude. Sure. Thought nothing of it, put my iPod on. About 2 or 3 minutes after that the aforementioned douche a few rows up starts having a tantrum about how a coat and a bag mysteriously “jumped into” his compartment. He said something to the effect of “I was trying to make room for a real bag.” — which of course meant ‘his’ carry-on suitcase. I told him it was mine, but explained that I didn’t move it. Then he started huffing and puffing about not wanting to “be in charge of everyone’s stuff.” WTF, right? So I said, “What do u mean be in charge of it? Just close the… bin!” Now the ellipses are important because they show you where and how I edited myself. I didn’t see any kids, but my reflexive profanity would have still been inappropriate I’m sure. Continue reading →

Airplane Venom: I hate your family

This blog is dedicated to the occupants of seats 18-A, 18-B and 18-C on United Airlines Flt. # 340 from Chicago O’Hare to BWI. I know you will never see this blog, but I’m certain the therapist I’ll be hiring in the very near future would have recommended that I find a benign way to vent my frustrations in the interest of good mental health.

So here goes: I hate your family. For myriad reasons which I will attempt to enumerate, but undoubtedly fall short of conveying completely.

To the little boy seated direcly behind me in 18-B:

I’m glad you shat in your pants.

Perhaps if you hadn’t been so consumed with kicking my seat and punching the back of my headrest, you would have realized you had to shit before they turned on the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign. It filled my heart with a Christmas-y sort of glee when I heard your fruitless cries of “I have a boo-boo in my pants” ring out thru the cabin. The awful stench of retribution was suprisingly gratifying. Ha. Serves you right. Sit in it.

To the little girl seated on her father’s lap in 18-A:

While you’re no longer an infant and should know how to behave better, I recognize you’re probably too small to take full responsibility for your incessant shrieking. It’s not your fault you were born to two people so acutely unfamiliar with the concepts of discipline and propriety. So I’m gonna let you slide. Kinda.

To the two turds masquerading as parents in 18-A & 18-C:

As you are responsible for the creation of this family unit, the blame for what I and the other passengers had to endure this evening rests solely upon your shoulders. Perhaps you couldn’t do much about your youngest child’s screaming — maybe her ears were popping, who knows… But your older son’s unacceptable and unchecked behavior warranted a beat down. And you know it.

I travel a lot. And I’ve had to listen to tons of crying babies and restless children. But your absolute refusal to acknowledge your son’s behavior — even after he kicked my seat so hard he woke me up and propelled me forward into my lowered tray table — OUCH; even after two flight attendants came over to ask me if I was OK… Completely unacceptable.

No discipline. No ‘be quiets’. No embarrassed apologies… You should no longer be permitted to fly.

Or reproduce.