the next time somebody says I have a 'glamorous job'...

I just spent the last 3 hours in the malodorous armpit of a complete stranger. Or so it seems. Ok, he was across the aisle from me, but those little wavy stink lines that were radiating out from him were wafting right up my nose.

This trip did not have an auspicious beginning. The most obvious reason being that it's a Sunday trip. I try to avoid these like the dentist. They don't PAY me to work on Sunday, so why should I? So I report to Delta airlines for check-in on my way to Ottawa via Atlanta, and there's a guy in the check-in line getting pissy. Seems that there was this other guy, we'll call him Cokey (I seriously think he snorted something 5 minutes prior to stepping in line, he was twitching and jumpy and just generally annoying), who was in line before I got there, but had stepped to the side to pack (and re-pack) his 7 suitcases or so. Immediately after I got in line, another gentlemen (Mr. Pissy) stepped in line behind me. When Cokey tried to resume his original place in line in front of me, Mr. Pissy got, well, pissy. He started shifting his weight from one foot to the other and making small huffing noises of indignation and trying to get someone to agree with him that Cokey was just trying to skip places in the line. Frankly, I just couldn't give a shit less.

Cokey turns around and says, "what's the problem man?" to which Mr. Pissy does not respond. So Cokey is twitching and jerking in line ahead of me, and the ticket agent says, "next". At which point Mr. Pissy POKES me in the shoulder with something (finger? travel documents?) and says, "it was your turn, you should go!" To which I can only respond, "PLEASE DON'T POKE ME. It's his turn, he was here before me." Then I had to repeat the last part, because Mr. Pissy was ESL. I'm kinda glad he's ESL and there was a chance he didn't understand the "DON'T POKE ME" part because I immediately felt bad for saying it. I didn't yell it or anything, but I just felt bad. This is what happens when you're too Libra, boys and girls. Then I worried that I was being a poor ambassador, and he was going to return to Africa and tell everybody that Americans are racist jerks. Not that he'd be the first, but I don't want to be the cause of it. But dammit, you shouldn't poke me. Thus began my odyssey.

Then in the security line, there were women saying goodbye, and the one who was flying was just weeping and weeping and holding onto the younger, prettier one who wasn't. So when the weeper walked away, she didn't walk - she did the runway walk! No kidding. Still sniffling and wiping tears from her eyes, she sashayed down that first-class aisle like she OWNED it. Could've been wearing couture with that walk. Michael Kors. Dior. Chanel. Not that it's of any importance, but it was just incongruous enough to get my attention. And it provided an interesting visual to the audio track I was getting from Cokey defending his right to carry his "diabetes meds" (sure, sure) through the security checkpoint.

About this time, I look at my ticket which says I'm seated in 44F, which I saw earlier online and learned that it's a window seat (I like aisle) right in front of the bathrooms. This is what happens when you fly your non-preferred carrier and book late. They punish you. So I ask the agent at the gate to please please please reseat me in any aisle that does not have a direct view of the toilets. Bless his little heart, he did. But not before Cokey showed up at my gate and inserted himself between me and the agent and tried to demand his attention.

Unfortunately, that seat was across from the aforementioned odoriferous little man. Who seemed nice enough, looked like that quiet advanced statistics professor we all had in college. I think he was possibly Chinese. When my eyes weren't watering from the almost visible odor, I was intrigued by what he was doing - he was tapping repeatedly on different parts of his body with his fingers, and moving his hands strangely in the air. Dude was doing energy work! Which is cool. I'm down with the woo-woo stuff. I just prefer mine unscented. With every wave of his hand, he was wafting armpit all over the damn plane. Oh, and he took off his shoes AND SOCKS too. I hope he enjoyed his energy.

You're probably thinking, "J - why are you recounting every blasted moment of this trip?" Well, let me tell you. It's because I had to sit in that position, on the runway, next to Dr. Stinky McEnergy, for about an hour and a half while Delta diddled around with some alleged "fuel gauge malfunction'. And consequently, miss my connection to Ottawa. So once we were in flight, I had another 2.5 hours to enjoy this. Then another half hour when we landed and didn't have a gate. He was also a slurper. Thanks again for the Bose headphones, Dad. You've made the world a safer place for my fellow travelers, when I can't hear them.

You do all know what Delta stands for, right? Doesn't Ever Leave The Airport.

But all's well that ends well - almost. I'm in the Atlanta Hilton now, sitting on a nice cushy bed, with a steak and bleu cheese salad next to me. Sounds great, except I have to get up in 4 hours, get to the airport, take 2 flights to get to Ottawa, do my demo, then take 2 flights to get home.

I'm gonna go charge those headphone batteries.