Dear Not Bruce Springsteen:

Like every other civilized passenger on this flight, I was sound asleep in this dark tomb suspended peacefully in midair until five minutes ago when you decided to take it upon yourself to be the ONLY a hole among us to unceremoniously fling your window shade up as far as it will go, thereby blinding everyone with the light reflection from the clouds. Then, you add insult to injury and make a phone call at full volume to your wife; wherein, at about the forty five second mark, you deafeningly claim to know nothing about an email from someone named “Jill” followed by a rushed run down of today’s itinerary and a strangled garbling of “I love you.”

Not Bruce, there is an unspoken code among adults who travel frequently. If you happen get the window seat on a flight that is wheels up before eight am, you leave the fucking window shade down until the last possible second. None of us wants to be here and the last thing we need is the air travel equivalent of closing time at the local bar where the bouncers laugh their asses off and blast the lights at 1:59 am just to fuck with their drunkest patrons who are trying to hook up before they go home and get ready to start their shifts as elementary school bus drivers but then they each realize that the other looks more like Steven Hawking/ That One Down’s Syndrome Actress Who Everyone Pretends To Like  and less like Channing Tatum/ Margot Robbie so no one gets laid. It’s actually inhumane. My GOD, you are a DICK.

By the way, since I’m awake now, let me save you some time. Your wife and Jill have already spoken. You’re busted. No need to hurry home.

SS

PS. You are, most definitely, wrapped up like a DOUCHE. #misunderstoodlyrics

PPS. Fuck you. Seriously.