What is it about old people where once they get on a plane, they feel the need to drop smoke bombs in their seat. You know, the seat usually right next to or in front of you. Plane ride to Chicago this morning was packed. I had a cattle car (Southwest) ticket and got there way late, so I was next to last on the plane. Only middle seats left. Only middle seats between big fat people that have their jelly rolls hanging over onto the middle seat. Excuse me, stewardess, no snack pack for them. So I spy one middle seat where there is the obligatory fat-ass on one side, but a slender granny on the other. "Score", thinks me. Wrong. 30 minutes into the flight the fatso drops her tray table and starts filling out cards with her elbow over the armrest and into my side. Don't people know the damn middle seat gets both arm rests?! Then granny decides she is going to show the mighty power of the AARP and lets one rip. I think AARP is the noise it made, as well. "So, granny, whatcha been eatin?" Then she looks confused. Like she didn't know it was coming. All I could do was nonchallantly turn my air on high, put my head down and finish watching my movie on the laptop. Don't even get me started on the 3 cackling hens behind me that wouldn't shut up....
