Have you guys been waiting for my traumatic story about my trip back from Houston? I think I can finally talk about it -- or at least write about it -- without getting too angry.
So, Sunday morning in Houston started out splendidly. I got up early, checked out of the hotel, drove to Katy to see Paula and co., grabbed coffee at Starbucks, went for a walk and then left around 10:30 a.m. to get to the airport. I made it to the airport with a comfortable amount of time to drop off the rental car, get checked in and then get through security. But then, the plane was about a half an hour late. We finally did get on the plane (and I was one of the last on because I'm not a fan of waiting in line), and as I was walking back to my seat, I saw a huge man. I thought, "With my luck, I'll end up in the seat next to him." Guess what? My seat was right next to him.
So, I got sat down and was smooshed against the wall, only to find out that something was wrong with the fueling mechanism and we didn't have air conditioning. We sat on the tarmac for 45 minutes without AC, me sweating up a storm, feeling the man's leg sweat on my leg and having his arm rest on my rib cage. I think my spine is curved from sitting for so long at the angle I was at. Worst thing is, every seat on the plane was full so I had to stay that way for the whole trip. Ick.
This doesn't sound as horrible on "paper" as it was in real life.
I realize I'm risking sounding snotty, and I felt sorta bad for the guy, but come on. Give me a break and don't make both of us miserable on the flight. Next time, get two seats. I'll take a later flight.
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