The Friendly Skies
Got to love Jazz Pianist Dred Scott–I never know what he’s going to say next!!!
i’m sitting in 4d. an aisle seat. i like to sit in the front of the aircraft and on the aisle so i can get up anytime i want. i am always one of the last people to board and today as i turn the corner to go up the aisle there is a two year old boy smearing his germs all over my seat. wiping his mouth and playing with my channel changer, waving a crumbling cookie in his hand that is being ground into still smaller crumbs as he jumps up and down. his mother sees me and scoops him up onto her lap . she is about 20 and wears a burka. next to her in the window seat a four year old girl sleeps face down on the metallic arm rest.
the boy fusses. he shouts. and then after his mother smacks him one, he
wails.
’stop it!’ she screams at him. ‘i’m so sorry, sir,’ to me.
’smacking him just makes it worse. he’s just a little boy. give him a break.’
‘why don’t you mind your own business,’ she snaps.
‘i’m just saying, is all.’
and the boy pukes all over the seat in front of him and onto the floor near my bag which is under the seat in front of me. not chunks, fortunately. i’m guessing too much juice. i grab my bag and stand up in the aisle.
‘i am so sorry, sir.’ she says again.
‘it’s ok. just a little puke. the sky waiters will help you.’ i say loud enough for them to hear. i say this because they have been giving this poor young girl annoyed glances ever since the boy started crying which is the second she took him out of my seat. they reluctantly bring her juice and each time scold her that the child must be unbuckled in the seat.
she protests that it is impossible to keep him in one place and the buckle
restrains him.
‘no maam. he MUST be on your lap. and he must remain UNBUCKLED. that is the rule. it is for you own safety. beep, beep, beep. whirrrrrr. bop.’
i am flanked by a tall gay man with a crew cut and a round southern lady with too much make-up.
‘what’s going on here?’ says crew cut and puts his hand on his hip.
’sir, you are going to have to move that bag out of the aisle,’ i hear simultaneously from the other one behind me.
the burka girl is furiously dabbing the floor and the middle seat.
‘it will be ok in a minute,’ i say, but the woman sky waitress grabs my
bag and says,
‘i can just put this in the overhead for you.’
to which i reply,
‘no that’s ok.’ and i pull it away from her bumping into crew cut who’s bent over helping the burka woman. he smacks his head on the back of the seat and yells too loudly,
‘owwwwww.’
‘cmon. the seat’s padded. that didn’t even hurt,’ i offer.
but he doesn’t hear. he’s had enough. he’s going back to the front of the plane to sit down.
’sir you have to move that bag.’
‘what’s the big deal? we’re at the gate. we’re not going anywhere.’
‘the BIG DEAL is that bag blocks my easement and is a safety hazard!’
i say,
‘your easement isn’t completely blocked. if you’re easement was blocked you wouldn’t be able to get by. and you can. and i think that’s considered passable easement which is technically easement.’
the puke was cleaned up so with that i put the bag back under the seat in front of me and sat down.
about a half and hour goes by and we are still sitting at the gate so i open the sandwich i brought. it’s a little messy and there was no napkin in the bag so i get tall, blond and snooty’s attention. he’s just standing there, but he does nothing to indicate he has seen me so i push the sky waiter button over the seat.
‘bing.’
he lets out a sigh and comes over.
‘what is it sir?’ as he reaches over and turns of the call button.
‘bing.’
‘could i please have a napkin?’
‘you’ll have to give me a second.’
‘well, a second is all it will take.’
pivots. one, two, three, four steps and he’s at his station picking up a handful of napkins. one, two, three, four steps and he’s back.
‘thanks. that wasn’t so bad was it?’
’sir. you have to put on your seatbelt.’
‘woops, sorry.’
we finally pull out of the gate and go out to a runway where we park uninformed for another 45 minutes. so i pull out my phone to text my wife who is picking me up. i get about half way when the delta burke waitress catches me,
’sir, we are on an active runway.’
‘doesn’t look very active to me. i think we’re parked.’
‘you have to turn that off now!’ yelling.
‘other people are doing it. why are you yelling at me?’ and i’m almost finished. i am a very slow texter.
‘ok. i’m…..turning…..my…..phone……off……………now.’
now an older black woman i have not yet encountered comes over and crouches down in front of me.
‘now sir. you have not been in compliance.’
‘because i wanted a napkin? because i didn’t want my bag to get puke all over it??’
’sir, you are raising your voice. compliance is-’
‘well you guys keep hassling me. you know i’m not drunk. i haven’t had a single drink. you know i quit drinking. it hasn’t been easy and i haven’t been perfect, but i’m not about beating myself up about it, you know? i haven’t had drink in two months so you can give me a breathalizer right now if you want.’
’sir, we’re not saying that. we just need to let you know that you need to be in compliance.’
‘yeah, i got that. you just said compliance like five times. stop saying compliance.’
’sir - ‘
‘look. is there anything you want me to do right now?’
‘no sir.’
and so i put my headphones on and flipped through the channels using the napkin my friends the sky waiters brought me so i wouldn’t have to touch the channel changer.
TONIGHT
THE DRED SCOTT TRIO
ROCKWOOD MUSIC HALL
MIDNIGHT
BEN RUBIN, BASS
TONY MASON, DRUMS
