Freaks But Never the Hot Girl: My Life on Planes

I will not be sitting anywhere near her.

Over the last couple weeks, with summer vacation season in full-tilt, a lot of you may have found yourselves on airplanes. And if you’ve ever traveled by airplane on your own, you’ll know this drill: You sit at the gate, waiting for the flight, and scan the crowd. After you pick out the potential terrorists, you start pinpointing the folks you really, really, really hope end up sitting next to you.

I know I do. And, as a dude who takes a lot of business flights, it’s a nice diversion. It’s also proved, at least for me, pretty fruitless, for the Gods of Airplane Flights have never chosen to smile on me.

Many an early morning and late night I’ve spent in the terminal, glass-eyed, pulling from a flat bottle of Coke and staring up from a dog-eared Sports Illustrated, silently praying to God and Sonny Jesus that the 19-year-old sorority girl in the skintight, faded Levis ends up in the seat next to mine. I try to imagine what her perfume will smell like, what kind of gum she’ll offer to share with me, how I can tempt her with my Australia college paper writing services, and what hotel room we’ll end up in after I ply her with my inexhaustible charms.

But it never happens. Instead, find the nutjob with the “Vietnam Vets for Christ” T-shirt who’s drooling into a tin cup, and that’s my guy. All the time, every time, you can bet all your money at sbobet, he’s sitting next to me.

The 400 pound electronics salesman? The drunken real estate exec just back from a conference in Dallas? The 8 year old with the iPad who’s keeping a journal of all the interesting clouds we pass? Inevitably, they will all end up at my side. For three hours.

It’s the worst kind of tease imaginable. Sitting there, fumbling with my seat belt, watching the beautiful women file in, one after another, and place their streamlined asses in seats that aren’t next to mine. But when they hold the plane for the guy who was just throwing up in the Stuckey’s restroom? That’s when I dust off the seat to my left, because I know, dollars to donuts, that’s his final destination.

God, whatever I’ve done to wrong ya, I hereby apologize.

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