Thursday, November 26, 2009

but it's my f$%ing armrest, guy


Being home is rather nice.

It smells a little less Kenya and a little more ‘shitters-I left-stewed fruit-in the fridge’.
It smells like home – and even though my windows have been shut and it smells somewhat stale in the old joint – frankly, it’s a whole lot better than that airport at 5:00am yesterday morning.

Home.

Where my vibrator and I can reignite our steamy relationship without wondering whether the hotel has cameras rigged in the room, built into the TV, facing my bed.

Don’t say that’s never happened. Because somewhere, on this kinky planet, heaving with human depravity and sexual animalism, there’s a hotel out there winding tape all over your naked backside. Of that I am almost certain.

I can watch the ever-eventful and retarding Reality Hell on E! and lie on my couch chavving it up in a pair of blue velour shorts.

That I have owned since 2005.

Home. Where I don’t have to fight for the armrest with some woman on the plane who insisted on powdering her nose every five seconds.

It was a passive aggressive fight; whereby I was determined to hunt down my territory – the armrest – through the weapon of elbow limb, and refuse to move.
Purely on matter of principle, while all the while staring out of the window like I hadn’t rooted it there on purpose.

She started it.

It’s economy class, where space per cubic centimetre is precious and half-existent. Not like up there in cushy class where Randall Abrahams was sitting with some curly haired agent. (What was he doing in Kenya? Starting a new Idols? Please say it isn’t so. Christ not another one. Please.)

Anyway, so this bitch is applying powder to her face, whilst studying the pores on her nose at the same time. Usually an activity of this trivial nature should take up relatively no room.

No, her arms are but butterflying all over my area. My area. Only obstructed by the buckle that is the seatbelt.

I’m about to start my drooling-on-inflatable-neck-cushion repertoire, while leaking great wodges of sound into my ears, and thinking of hot sex in Mexico, when I feel the formidable prick of my invisible personal bubble.

I frown downwards. Getting too assertive with immediate seatmates could mean another Lufthansagate.
And nobody wants one of those, even if there are no crowds of peeved flailing Germans in proximity.

So I wedge my elbow onto my armrest. See it’s mine, because she has another one on the other side which is perfectly usable.

I hate touching skin on skin with strangers. Who are obsessed with their nasal pores. And are not hot.

I almost caved.

But figured this bird needed to learn. Basic cattle etiquette – in Economy, cows shouldn’t graze on other cow’s seats. Oozing is an unfortunate product of the obese, and although immensely not cool to sit next to, they’re not overtly trying to get on your tits. They just to cool it on the 8 000 MacBurgers/month.

She starts to push at my elbow with her elbow ever slightly, so I just push harder.

We’re arm-wrestling for an armrest. Except using elbows. It’s up there with being headbutted by live game with a name.

Resting my elbow on my territory has never been so uncomfortable. She leans over to put her compact in her bag – a moment of weakness - and so I take the gap and rest the length of my arm on it, while smiling evilly.

Sneeze. Fuck, why? And now she’s back on.

This scenario went on for the duration of the four hour flight. I’m a determined bitch, and I should get Miles for this alone.

We never once looked at each other or pretended that her arm, jammed into my elbow bone, had any affect on me at all.

People have a lot to bitch about air travel. People who fart, the undeterminable space food, the legroom. But nobody talks about the Plane Politics.

13 comments:

wozzel said...

Dam those hotels and their hidden cameras! hehe.

Peas on Toast said...

wozzel - I mean it's one thing potentially being filmed with another person....an entire different thing being filmed doing it with yourself :)

Secret said...

Its not only arm rests - its reclining seats as well.
I can sit in a plane with my seat in the upright position, it hurts my back and neck. So I recline is ever so slightly because I want to be polite and not upset the fat middle aged cow behind me. And it doesnt matter how little a recline my frikkin chair, the said cow behind me will do her best to knock the freaking chair every 5 and a half seconds - or she will rip her fold up tray down with such voracity that it might actually move with a force strong enough to rip a hole in the floor of the plane had the not been holding the tray. WTF is up with that.
And dont get me started on babies.
Give them whiskey. Thats all Im saying.

Peas on Toast said...

Secret - You've hit the nail on the head. The reclining seats is a major issue - and I used to do exactly what you do. (Loved the bit about the tray foracity-hole ripping!) Now I test the waters.

Has the person kicked my chair repeatedly before we've even taken off? Is their mere presence pissing me off?

Then I press the recline button down long and hard and ricochet my chair back in one foul swoop.

mEeLa said...

Sounds like a game of elbow tag to me - http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=elbow%20tag

Peas on Toast said...

mEela - perfect description. Lockdown on the elbow tagging. Why couldn't this person have been Richard Hammond?

Thedailyspew said...

I think london public transport would break you, while the poms love their personal space, it often gets invaded on the tube and the buses....

Peas on Toast said...

Spew - the difference is, you're not going to be on a tube for (hopefully) ordinarily more than 2 hours. Unless shit hits the fan, or you live outside of London.

It's the duration that hurts the most...

Charmskool said...

Argh I hate steerage class flying! So I guess you would have been totally freaked out by the woman who fell asleep next to my precious Bete on the bullet train we caught from Kyoto to Tokyo, and who rested her head on Bete's shoulder till she woke refreshed. Bete didn't complain or shove her off (as I would have) she just smiled sweetly and carried on eating her doughnut and drinking coffee as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Oh I love that strange little Bete - I'da shoved the silly Nip onto the floor of the carriage.

Peas on Toast said...

Oh Bless - she's amazing! Just carried on about her business, what a trooper! Great attitude to have as well - makes me feel bad! ;)

Koekie said...

It's the one thing that will get me over my phobia of physical contact in public places. I want to jump up and scream like a demented person, "it's MY personal space. MY space. MINE!"

Instead, I let my blood pressure boil and have passive aggressive fights that involve elbows, or jutting out feet. Tip: I've recently added the 'Angled Umbrella' to my arsenal. Very handy, heightens discomfort and eliminates actual contact. Not sure if you can work that in during good weather though.

Flirty 30 said...

Peas.. This post had me in stitches! I can picture the crazed evil look in the eyes, the gritted teeth and minute, furious elbow barging happening! I'm sure you don't feel so much like a hermit anymore?
Facebook needs a facial recognition program where you can furtively snap a pic and match it on FB and bombard that bitch with Cattle Transportation ettiquette!

Flirty 30 said...

Peas.. This post had me in stitches! I can picture the crazed evil look in the eyes, the gritted teeth and minute, furious elbow barging happening! I'm sure you don't feel so much like a hermit anymore?
Facebook needs a facial recognition program where you can furtively snap a pic and match it on FB and bombard that bitch with Cattle Transportation ettiquette!