My flight back home was in three legs: Philadelphia to Chicago, Chicago to Las Vegas, Las Vegas to Oakland. On the first leg, I was tormented by a screaming, ill-behaved toddler in the seat directly behind me. I prayed to the God of Probability that they would get off in Chicago.
Joy, they did. But the God of Probability, he has a sick sense of humor. He replaced the screaming toddler... with another screaming toddler, this one twice the brat as the previous one. For three hours, she kicked the seat, threw food, yelled at her parents, slapped her parents, and tried to throw her portable DVD player across the aisle (come on, kid, Finding Nemo isn't too bad.) The mother and father both apologized profusely. In return, I didn't tell them that I had fantasized repeatedly about flushing their kid down the toilet.
The third leg, thankfully, did not include one screaming child - it is Vegas, after all. It did, however, include two drunken old Brazilian men, who went to the bathroom about three times apiece during the hour long flight to Oakland. Oh, that, and a very large bachelor party group, but I'm totally down with grown men wearing plastic viking helmets in public, so that's cool.
Despite all this, I managed to write a complete short story, and got about halfway through Rudy Rucker's The Hollow Earth. This is because I rock.
No, the story was not about shoving kids out spaceship airlocks.
I deleted that part.
Joy, they did. But the God of Probability, he has a sick sense of humor. He replaced the screaming toddler... with another screaming toddler, this one twice the brat as the previous one. For three hours, she kicked the seat, threw food, yelled at her parents, slapped her parents, and tried to throw her portable DVD player across the aisle (come on, kid, Finding Nemo isn't too bad.) The mother and father both apologized profusely. In return, I didn't tell them that I had fantasized repeatedly about flushing their kid down the toilet.
The third leg, thankfully, did not include one screaming child - it is Vegas, after all. It did, however, include two drunken old Brazilian men, who went to the bathroom about three times apiece during the hour long flight to Oakland. Oh, that, and a very large bachelor party group, but I'm totally down with grown men wearing plastic viking helmets in public, so that's cool.
Despite all this, I managed to write a complete short story, and got about halfway through Rudy Rucker's The Hollow Earth. This is because I rock.
No, the story was not about shoving kids out spaceship airlocks.
I deleted that part.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
sockpuppet:
Viking helmets... with horns? I hope not.
missmir:
damn screaming kids. Screaming children on busses and planes are the sole reason i own an ipod. Best believe i will not allow my child to behave like that..... my momma would have slapped the shit out of me if i tried to throw a fit on a plane. But really eventually all my mom had to do was give me "the eye" and i knew to stop whatever i was doing.