Snake on a Plane

Okay, so I wasn't actually on an airplane with a snake, but I once sat next to a very, very cranky woman during a three hour flight from Boulder, CO to SFO.

I can certainly understand feeling frustrated or even angered by the experience of traveling, especially post-9/11. But this woman sustained her anger through the pre-boarding, the flight and disembarking.

I was the unlucky person wedged between her and another person about whom any personl details, including gender, have long since left my memory. I had managed to book a flight that had neither a window nor aisle seat available anywhere on the plane. That lucky person next to the window studeously ignored my presence during the flight as well as I ignored his/hers. It's rather astonishing, really, that people who are seated, or should I say crowded, so closely to each other for an extended period of time can have so little interaction. We push ourselves into our seats and studiously avoid touching even our elbows on the arm rests. Between the window seater and I there was at least a courteous nod and half-smile. Nothing rude, simply the acknowledgment that we were two strangers forced into close proximity of each other who had little to no intention of interacting beyond the obligatory nods and clear attempts to avoid touching or interacting. But between myself and the angry lady on the aisle was another story.

She glared at me when she first arrived at the three seats. Like most people on the aisle, I suppose, she was disappointed that there was someone between her and the window; who wouldn't want the luxury of an empty seat next to them on a over-full flight? Even understanding this, I was borderline offended when she continued to stare angrily at me, even after I nodded and offered a half-smile. My existence was clearly the second to last straw on her wide camel back. She dropped her carry-on luggage on to the floor next to me and kicked it rather viciously under the seat in front of her before landing hard on the seat herself.

The pulling and tugging of the seatbelt was like a silent tantrum; I could almost hear the internal dialogue and a myriad of swear words that each jerk and pull of the belts was fueled by. I wondered if she hurt herself when she locked the two belt ends into place and then pulled hard to tighten into place. Once seated, she would not look at me, nor at the stewardess during the pre-flight instructions; she only stared straight ahead at the seat back in front of her. I wonder if that seat became hot from her gaze. The person in front of her did seem to squirm quite a bit at the onset of the flight.

Shortly after take-off, I spent some time utilizing my naturally sharp peripheral vision to study this very angry creature. She had long dark hair, glasses, and wore loose fitting, dark clothes over a plump body. She reminded me of women I used to see in the crowds at science fiction conventions; if there is such as thing as a cookie cutter version of a female con-geek, she was one. Her jewelry was all silver, there was some sort of dark blue or purple gem worked into the pendant around her neck. Her hair followed no style; it simply hung long.

Eventually, she pulled out a paperback novel by David Baldacci. Not exactly the reading material I expected, but the cover did look dark and menacing. Regardless, she was reading, and for a few moments my opinion of her rose a bit. I have high regard for books, and in general for people who read them. Sustained reading is a sign of some intelligence, some ability to think at an elevated level, maybe a bit higher than a non-reader. It wasn't a romance novel, so she wasn't losing herself in a river of romantic notions the way I had done in my very early years.

I sat with this for a short time until she brutally tore a page out of the back of the book. I am not exaggerating when I say brutally. Yes, I love books and you could even say that I revere them, but when she ripped the page from the book, it was clear her anger had no limits, she was even pissed off at the book. I was actually so surprised by this that I flinched, thinking that a hunk of my hair was next. She used the page, now garbage, to spit a used chunk of chewing gum out of her mouth. The gum and paper were crunched up together in her hand and then pushed into the seat pocket in front of her.

We build walls around us when in crowded conditions like this. If Jung was still around I suspect he would identify it as a part of a collective consciousness; the walls don't really exist, but we all have them. It was time to fortify my wall if I was going to survive the remainder of the flight. I cut off my peripheral vision, pulled my arm as close to my body as possible, closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere else, anywhere else. In other words I psychically removed myself form the situation as best as I could. I even made a point to breath as shallowly as possible.

This intent was thwarted somewhat by the flight attendant and the drink dispensing. There was simply no way around reaching in front of my angry companion to retrieve my orange juice. She steadfastly refused any and all attempts by the flight crew at being taken care of. She wanted no refreshments, no snacks, no contact, nothing. She wanted to remain left alone in her anger.

When we reached San Francisco, and it was finally time to disembark, I continued to sit quietly in my seat even as people were beginning to mill about and fill the aisle. I mentioned to the window person that if he/she didn't mind, I wasn't in a hurry to stand up: we would be able to get off the plane eventually, no hurry. He/She agreed and we waited until the aisle was mostly clear before we began collecting our belongings and disembarking.

The angry lady stood as soon as was allowed, yanked her carry-on out from under the seat and used similar movements to remove a bag from the overheard bin. She nearly hit someone with her bag, but was still clearly irritated with the presence of other's and their belongings. I could see her anger, that had not so much cooled as leveled out during the flight, rise back up as she mentally broadcast her disgust and frustration with the human race that surrounded her.

By the time I was off the plane, she was nowhere to be found. It was at that point that I chose to never allow crowds or security rules or delays to get under my skin when traveling. I never want to be that woman. I never want to exude those kinds of negative vibes to the innocents around me. Hell, I never want to feel that level of anger for any sustained amount of time. So as unpleasant a woman, and a situation, as that was, I did learn something valuable. It's simply not necessary to be a bitch in the air, nor a snake on a plane.