Clearly you are a master of many things, including travel. For example, unfortunate haircuts. Close out sales on Clarks earth shoes. Seatbelt extenders. Odd science schematics, circa 1954. And pilfering multiple various complementary newspapers from outside the hotel room doors of unsuspecting Embassy Suites sleeping guests. How do I know this? Because despite the fact that it is barely eight am, you have completed your requisite corporate travel and expense report within minutes; your seat lamp blaring in my right eye, like a police flashlight, ostensibly providing all parties illumination and clarity, but in reality only serving to establish some kind of weird territorial dominance. Your noise cancelling headphones do seem like a good call, given the incessant rattle of the multiple newspaper pages you are scouring. Much like Larry King pinching off a long, hard dump after a week of turtle heading it, you have made your way through three different newspapers in half an hour, no doubt merely skimming the headlines so that you can report back to your manager that you used your downtime wisely, instead of, say, oh, perusing the free Lifetime Movie channel offerings while surfing the hotel wifi for light bukaki. (Spoiler alert: there is no such thing as “light bukaki” – you’re welcome.) We have been on this flight now less than an hour and you have segued from expense reports to newspapers to some kind of scientific formula exam which seems to have you vexed. (Hint: on multiple choice it’s usually “C” or “D” you know, like the letter of my seat. 14D. You’re welcome again. Also, time saver: Showing your work is for pussies. You can thank me later.)
Given the fact that this is CLEARLY not your first rodeo, it strains credulity for anyone to believe the line of bullshit you attempted to lay on me when you first arrived to your seat. To wit: “I think I have the aisle seat” followed by the words “I’m in 14F” are incongruent. Even first time passengers who have presumably attended elementary school know that the first six letters of the English alphabet are, in order: ABC, DEF. Not, as you would have us believe: CBA, FED. I mean, I get it. You need extra room to stretch out your ultra thick vibra soled sandals and still figure out how to avoid total anal immersion into the most soiled part of your super ultra thick three hour old maxi pad. And for some reason, you thought that using your version of an authoritative voice would scare me into disregarding the forty five or so years of my life where I believed that the letter “D”came before the letter “F” in the English alphabet. Unfortunately for you, today was not your day.
Next time, just admit that you have a loaded maxi pad adjustment issue and ask for mercy. Or, better yet, use tampons. Your hole seems big enough to go with a super plus, no problem. Maybe even two. Trying to convince other adults that they are the ones who misunderstand the elementary level alphabet seems beneath you. Kind of like your now completely saturated Walmart brand generic ultra maxi with wings.
They sell pads with odor protection for a reason. Look into it.
PS. F. Off.