#39 The Airplane Talker

You remind me of my grandson.

You remind me of my grandson, Rusty!

Your flight was supposed to leave at 1pm. Delay, beer, delay, kiosk sandwich, diahhreah. It’s now 10:30 at night, and you finally sit down in your crammed, cubicle of a seat. You look to your left and see a bright-eyed, white-haired lady. She’s got a smile that’s says “I’ve been waiting for you”, and as you try to close your eyes, she breaks the silence with:

“Oh dear, I can never sleep on planes!”

And that’s when you clench your fist, and wish for the first time that you were addicted to pain killers. Because you’ve just been seated next to the hell-on-earth of air transportation, the demon of travel: The Airplane Talker.

For the next five hours, she will blab on about her dog, her son, her medication. “Oh thank God my dog Muffy is not a shedder. The Doctor said that’s important, you know.” She’ll let you know how she doesn’t understand all this skateboarding and MTV nonesense. She’ll talk about her family, her friends, and how she remembers the days when airplane food was as good as Mom’s lasagna.

At about three hours in, she’ll really start to open up. “…And that’s when I learned I had diabetes. If it wasn’t for Frank giving me those daily suppositories, I wouldn’t be sitting next to you today.” Damn you, Frank! How could you stand her stories?

Shut the fuck up!This is the point where you start zoning out, eyes focusing on the Emergency Exit. “If I just pull it open and push her out, no one will realize…” If it were only that simple. Such is the crux of the Airplane Talker. There is no escape, no where to run. You can try to shut your eyes, try to sleep, but as soon as you flutter those eyes, there’s a story about World War II waiting for you.

You’ll probably be tempted to drop a bunch of Nyquil into her ginger ale when she goes to the bathroom for the eighth time. Do it. This is your only chance for peace.

Mostly due to over-congestion and less frequent flights, the prevalence of the Airplane Talker has increased to epic proportions in recent years. Every random seating assignment runs the serious risk of being placed next to one of these ear-bleeding assholes. It’s important to note, that while I’ve specifically described a female, the Airplane Talker knows no race or sex. Just like their cousin, the Public Transportation Amigo, it could be anyone.

Your best bet to combat Airplane Talkers is to come prepared. On every flight, bring a bottle of Ambien, a horse tranquilizer, and a ball gag. This should give you ample choices as to shutting them the fuck up. Worst case, you’ll at least have a fun flight.
________
Also Known As: Chatty Kathy, The Perpetual Plane Ride, Shut the Fuck Up McGruff, The Living Seinide, The Neverending Story II, Air Bud

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3 Comments

Filed under awful, IdiotPantsParty, old people, parents, travel

3 responses to “#39 The Airplane Talker

  1. There’s nothing worse, is there? Great entry!

  2. mysweetmusings

    holy shit! I used that same pic on my blog today the old lady) Am I stalking you?

  3. The MaD HaCkER

    Killing them is only a momentary pleasure, and is bound to get you cheered on.

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