First things first, I am watching Jersey Shore right now and legit dying. This is quite possibly the trashiest best thing I have ever seen. I can’t decide what I liked best; Vinny’s pit stains, the constant talking in the third person or when the one of the roommates walks in and says “I saw a guido looking kid with spiked hair and I’m like, this kid’s perfect.” HA. I know what I am doing every Thursday night for the next few weeks.
Secondly, I want to make all of my readers aware of this. This chick lived with Boyfriend sophomore year. Important things to note, we went to a Catholic school and she was just as batshit crazy in real life.
Speaking of completely tragic people who are completely unaware of how awful they are, I have to tell you all about the new friends I made on Friday. This weekend I took an impromptu trip to Chicago to visit South Beach. Once I made it there we had a really great time scouring Hyde Park for signs of Barack Obama’s pre-White House life. The two hour flight there, on the other hand, nearly cost me my sanity.
For the first time in the last million flights I have taken the weather was clear and perfect with no sign of weather delays or turbulence. I was practically crying tears of joy that my flight was going to get to its destination in a timely fashion. The problem here is that in my elation I failed to notice the pack of lunatics also boarding the plane.
So I get to my seat or, more accurately, try to, but lo and behold there is a some lady sitting in it. She is wearing some beat up sneakers that I am fairly sure I had when I was 6, a pair of stained sweatpants and a crazed look on her face.
“Um, excuse me, I think you’re in my seat.”
“No, girl. This is the right row.”
Instead of grabbing her badly permed mop of hair and dragging her out of my window seat I try to nicely explain that 19F, the seat she is sitting in, is actually mine.
“Look girl, I got here first and I just thought I would sit here.”
Fine. I value my life so I take her aisle seat. As I pull out the trashy magazines in my purse I hear a loud, persistent meowing coming from below the crazy lady’s seat.
“Cuddles,” she starts screaming, “BE QUIET! Mommy is tired and you’ve been yelling all day.” Well, Cuddles is having none of the yelling and is trying to make a break for it. Her paw comes of the carrier, then her face and before Cuddles’s mom even knows what’s going on Cuddles has escaped.
Cuddles’s mom continues screaming and yelling as the cat tries to claw up the back of her neck and out the back door of the plane. This goes on for long enough that everyone on the plane is laughing and staring, including the baby munching on French fries sitting across the aisle from me. The woman finally manages to cram Cuddles back into her carrier. Three seconds later, Cuddles is out again. The chaos repeats until Cuddles is restored to her proper place inside the cat bag.
The verbal arguing between Cuddles and her mom continues until we are moments from take off at which time the lady reaches into the carrier and lifts Cuddles out. It is this same moment in time that the situation stops being hilarious and my rage starts bubbling over. Luckily, a hawk eyed flight attendant spots what is going on and intervenes.
As the two women struggle to put the cat in the carrier for the third time Cuddles’s mom decides to inform the plane in a loud bellow, “I DO NOT ABUSE MY ANIMALS!”
“Well, you certainly don’t have similar regard for your fellow airline passengers.” Kidding, though I wish I was clever enough to come up with that at the time. Instead, I just shut my my eyes and pray that Cuddles doesn’t decide to make another break for it. Shortly thereafter, the cat lady pops a bunch of pills and passes out.
Just as she is settling into her slumber the baby on the other side of me starts sobbing. You may remember that this baby had previously been eating French fries. Well now, apparently, he can’t handle solid foods because his mom flips off her tank top and pops her boob into his tooth filled mouth. Lady if it has teeth, it is too old to be breast fed. Also, for the record, when you subject the public to this, it becomes less of a beautiful miracle moment and more of a horribly uncomfortable moment for everyone in the vicinity.
Needless to say, I ran off that plane. I guess it could have been worse, I could have been sitting next to one of the Guidos or Guidettes and been forced to listen to them whisper sweet nothings to their reflection.