when air travel is all about me
sitting backwards in the front row on an airplane, not being able to stop yourself from thinking about that joke about how it’s better to sit in the rear since planes tend not to back into mountains, so you’re on this 15 minute flight from Vancouver to Victoria, facing the entire population of the aircraft after a very pleasant flight attendant has told you the plane is not full so if you would like to sit somewhere else - so you ask her if this is because sitting backwards causes motion sickness, and she says, “oh no, sir, never in all my thousands of flights has that ever been a problem, it’s just that some people find it awkward to be facing everyone” - you think to yourself, while reading Kurt Vonnegut’s posthumous essays on Armageddon, trying not to stare at the unbearably attractive outdoorsy type directly across from you, you find yourself thinking, “look bitch, even though I prefer the antiquated term ‘stewardess’ to ‘flight attendant,’ I do quite like you, and of course we’ve never met, and you’re being incredibly polite to me, so don’t take it personally when I call you bitch, I mean it lovingly, and how could it be personal, I don’t even know you, but please, bitch, I’ve spent my entire life having a curious selection of straight white people, and their attendant masses, stare at me, so please - bitch - let me have my fifteen minutes of awkward defaming, and if you really want to help me, ask the hunk facing me to sit beside me and nuzzle into my turtleneck while the entire plane looks on and weeps”
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