Cookies

Yesterday, I became part of the first human Oreo.

I think the only thing that might have made this more uncomfortable would have been to be twisted apart, exposing my innards, and eaten, bite-by-bite, fully awake and alive. And, the presentation of a ginormous glass of milk into my nightmare of a plane flight.

I arrived at the airport more than an hour before my plane was to lift off* and tried to check in at the computer kiosk. This little piece o' work spit out a pseudo-boarding pass that indicated it couldn't do jack for me and that I'd have to go to the gate to get a REAL pass to get on the plane.

By the time I removed my shoes, unpacked all my bomb making equipment**, showed my license, took off my jacket, and practically showed the guards my panties, I was so far back in line that the desk attendant had to create a 27th letter to describe my position in the boarding queue.

When I finally set foot on the plane, the flight attendant was making cracks about those of us (losers) in the aisle who, if we saw an open seat, should consider it ours, because it was a completely full flight. Oh JOY!

Being the rebel I am, I decided to ignore the PA announcement and head as far back in the plane as humanly possible. I would have happily sat on the toilet if it had had a seatbelt, to avoid the middle seat. No dice. Toilet was occupied. Darn.

However, toward the back of the plane was one last middle seat. Between two business-looking men, both wearing suits. Thankfully, my seat even came with spare overhead storage. I plopped down, mission accomplished.

Then the wierdest thing happened. It seems that these two gentlemen where traveling together. And they were both Chatty-Cathy's. I guess I had become transparent, because they didn't even seem to realize I had sat down. They thought it would be cool to talk around the ghost-of-a-person between them: ME.

The entire time this is playing out I'm thinking "If you two would like to sit together, I'll gladly take the window seat. Really. Unless the two of you are afraid you might get COOTIES or be tagged GAY by sitting too close to each other."

Thankfully, brain was moving, mouth was not.

My new seat buddies were talking about updated accounting and tax laws. I don't think there is a yawn big enough to describe the insomnia-producing effect of such a conversation. I decided my best defense was to lie still, close my eyes, and pray they'd both be rendered dumb. It was my best possum defense.

Sadly, neither guy was rendered speechless.

Instead, the dude on my left, who unfolded and stood to his 6'7" height at the end of the flight, took my "sleep" position as a chance to splay his legs all up in my business. He also felt completely chivalrous and relaxed his right elbow on our shared arm rest, crowding my arm completely into my chair.

So, here I am, scrunched from the left by Andre the Giant, while his sidekick, Mr. CPA, yaks in my right ear, all while I fake sleep. And continue to pray. To no avail.

That's when I realized I was a human Oreo. The best part of the cookie. I was such a sliver of a person, crowded into my seat, arms plastered to my side, legs straight ahead, that I even resembled the frosting middle.

I guess it could have been worse.

I'm just not sure how.





*Since I rarely travel alone these days, I COULD point fingers at others who like to arrive five minutes before flights then get into verbal punching matches about getting on the plane. Not the way I care to start a va-ca, but whatever floats your boat....

**Liquid foundation, perfume, and hairspray, when mixed together, might make a hell of a molotov cocktail. I just have no clue how to actually make this happen.