Was flying solo yesterday on Southwest Airlines. I was lucky enough to score the A boarding group. Now the fun begins get yourself onto the plane into a seat to hopefully provide for the best conditions for a 3 hour flight. As I travel down the isle row one is always out, no under seat storage. Row two man so large he has his own zip code with the morning paper opened up. Nope not there either. Row 3 guy already has what appears to be 13 various electronic devices scatted, also a nope. Row 4 mom with infant that already looks agitated, ok better go back a few more to ensure a necessary buffer. Row 9 or 10, small lady sitting on isle headphones already in empty middle seat and empty window seat. Ok, this might be my winner, flight to Vegas is always full so better take what I can get. I grab the window seat and the rest of the passengers file onto the plane. The standard drill ensues, people file to the back passing the open middle seats in hopes of better options. And naturally as the law of air travel dictates the last 15 people onto the plane move slower than a clerk at the DMV 3 months shy of retirement and they also have the largest of luggage and want to make it the worlds problem that there is no longer overhead bin space anyplace near them. Well slack ass, plenty of room for your luggage AND you under the plane!
As the plane fills I know my one seat buffer between me and lady on the isle is coming to an end, the only question is who will it be? Finally here he comes, sloppy middle aged dude. He sits down and doesn't lop over my arm rest, so that's a win, next up please don't be the smelly guy. Nope, not smelling anything foul we just might be ok. I'm hopeful to get some work done, so I'm putting out all the vibes that I really don't want to engage in mindless chatter with this dude. We get through the safety lecture and all is good, he's as silent as a hungover Catholic during Sunday mass...just maybe I dodged a bullet here.
Shortly after wheels up he starts in telling me he's going to Vegas for work, he works for ADP, the company that does outsourced payroll management. Then he begins to speak of his greatness, he's solved so many of the problems that no other person could figure out. After about 10 minutes of his monologue I'm starting to ponder how I can get this guy to shut up.
He finally stops to take a breath and I interject. "Well, Bob ( i have no idea what this guys name is so I simply assigned him one) let me tell you a little bit about what I do. I work for a company that makes urinal cakes...do you know what a urinal cake is Bob?" Before he gets a chance to answer I say, "Never mind Bob, of course you do, you piss just like the rest of us don't you? I mean I assume you do? You're not carting around one of those urine bags are you? No..didn't think so. Well, you see Bob (he's now growing very irritated by the fact that I keep calling him Bob, clearly not his name) I'm being sent out here to Vegas to do some research. My firm is curious to see how we can truly up our game in the urinal cake business. Now Bob, let me ask you, have you ever walked into a bathroom and it just smells like piss? Of course you have, I mean who hasn't? Well, Bob that's what we're trying to solve here. Vegas is going to be an interesting case study for us. What do we do in Vegas? Well, we drink...a lot and we also eat very poorly. With that our urine is very concentrated, therefore is smells awful! So I'm headed out to do some field work. We are striving to create a new line of urinal cake that will work to counter-act the high levels of potassium, chloride and creatinine that account for that smell that just turns you off. Because let's be honest Bob, you want into a bathroom and Las Vegas and you want it to be positive experience and not remind you of that pisser in the Phillips 66 off the rural route. So while you're out solving all of the worlds payroll problems just think of me, I'll collecting piss samples. Don't worry, I get them out of the urinal, thankfully I don't pull them directly from the source, that would just be messed up Bob."
All of his body language clearly indicates I've turned him off and he wants nothing more than for me than to stop talking. I stopped and said, "I'm sorry Bob, I'm going on and on about myself and the urinal cake business, I just get so passionate about making piss not stink you know what i mean? But enough of that...Are you going to get any time to enjoy yourself in Vegas?"
He pulls out his laptop, doesn't even look my direction and says, "Yeah, maybe a little...I'm sorry, I've got to get some work done here."
I say, "Oh sure Bob, I'm sorry I'm over here rambling like a 17 year old girl after the prom...you get your work done."
Not another word was spoken for the remaining 2+ hours of the flight.
