Oh, hi there. My, aren't you adorable, miniature Lenny Kravitz? You must be- what?- 4 years old? But you are really rocking that tiny afro and Euro hipster look, and the lion leash your mom holds onto as you run up and down the aisle of the plane is just adorable. My heart melts everytime you look at me over the top of your dad's seat. And yes, I'm going to continue winking and waving at you.
Wha...? What's that? Is someone being hurt? I had just dozed off after 4 hours on this cramped flight, but please, someone tell me who is screaming loud enough to bust through myAmbien haze? Aren't we all equally in need of a little shut eye? Oh, you don't have a 9-hour layover ahead of you like I do? Well, mazel tov. Shut that crying baby up. Immediately.
No! Not you, Lenny Kravitz! Don't you remember those pre-flight times? We laughed, we grinned, we winked... It was precious and not even mildly hazardous to your health. But yes, this screaming-- this howling, incessant screaming-- is, in fact, hazardous to your health. Because I will indeed KILL YOU if you don't stop screaming. I MUST sleep. Like, must. Bad things happen when I don't sleep; I cry, I snap, I lose the ability to focus my vision. So, please, for both our sakes and that of our fellow travelers (not to mention my currently clean criminal record), stop your miserable screaming before I snap your fuzzy little head off.
**I'll come back here later this week with more positive stories of my little Euro adventure, but I really needed to get those dangerous thoughts off my chest. That, friends, is what was going through my head somewhere over the Atlantic between Atlanta and Brussels. I-- and my little travel buddy-- made it safely to Europe, and no one got hurt. But close. So close.
No comments:
Post a Comment