I'be A Code

I'be tharted fneezing a wbunch. Suddebwy. Now I'be a code and miferbel.

Ok, so here's a short list of people who should never be allowed on airplanes:

-The bathing challenged. Look fella, if I wanted Musk by Jovan, I'd have time travelled back to the age of shirt lapels as big as spinnakers.

-Those prone to airsickness. Also, those prone to airsickness who ralph down a double whopper with most of the garage on it before take off. Triply, those fitting the above two prerequisites who further don't understand that the little bag in the seatback; well champ, that ain't remnants of the brown bag the inbound from LAX had.

-Children of most any stripe.

-Particularly those who chirp either on command or at timed intervals like, say, every six minutes when I actually nod off with visions of Sandra Bullock in my addled brain.

-Guys from Jersey who fail to comprehend that November in Phoenix ain't the same thing as November in Newark and, fuckin' A, its so cold when they land still decked out in shorts, a sport shirt and leather loafers that inspired the original "Pimp my Ride" that their balls retract with almost rifle-like velocity. One minute, Little Tony Soprano is waxing poetic over burgers at the Fireplace in Paramus, the next minute he's got a mouthful of scroti.

Thanks to the Mad Chucker, I gave up a three across exit row seat with a skinny waif on the aisle for a full threesome that included Hai Karate Kid from North Bergen. Seems Mad Chucker let fly and the crew had to hastily reseat those not afflicted with the inflight greenies. Hai Karate kid was one of the refugees.

Must be a new federal law that prohibits anyone from enjoying any part of the flight. And please note that the lavatories are equipped with mirth detectors and anyone caught smiling in the mirror may be subject to a government fine.

Apart from that, please enjoy being sealed in an aluminum tube for six hours with microbes that make bird flu look like dancing amoebae.

I don't mind flying and I don't mind security and I don't much mind being squashed into a seat the size of which reminds me of one I once had with Piglet embroidered on the back but I DO VERY MUCH mind in flight revenue generation like free cell phone or credit card offers while I am trying to nap or digest the five dollar cheese and ham and egg and Exxon unleaded concoction that passes for fare these days.

Leave me alone. Want to make money? Take my plane fare and get me there on time comfortably and preferably without a cabin crew that just got out of Gitmo on good behavior.

So thanks to flying Air Petrie Dish, I am now fighting off some sort of thingy that has me in the sack with Captain Tissue Box this holiday weekend.

Bummyd Ond.