It was a dark and stormy night. Well, early morning, and a bit cloudy, actually. Coming home from a semi wonderful trip to Italy (loved the country; the travel companion had some mental issues I’ll save for another time). It was a looong flight home and I had the fat (sexual orientation in question) lady from hell sitting next to me. her thigh fat oozed so far, wide and high, that she spilled over into my seat and the arm rest refused to go down as her cellulite kept it at a 'heil hitler' 45 degree angle.
Behind me was a family whose dad thought it was a wonderful idea to keep his toddler on his lab and let the child kick the back of my seat for entertainment. Non stop. Kick. Kick. Kick. When I ever so politely asked him to not have his son kick the back of my seat, he gave me the evil eye and informed me his son was ‘just a kid’.
“Yeah, and you’re an insensitive prick. Turn your son around and let him kick you in the groin for a bit and give my lower back a rest.”
Didn’t say it, just thought it... a lot.
Fat oozing to the right of me, kicking behind me and my travel companion snored all the way home.
(note: i've never, ever said the word 'prick' out loud in my life, but it sure feels good to type it. this blog is my alter ego, 'damn all those newport beach cotillion lessons and let it all out' therapy)
anyone care to share their travel horrors?