The great nor’easter currently pounding the east coast has me worried. Tuesday we’re due to fly out of Washington, D.C. and I’m hoping for an early break in the weather. (a) I don’t want to be delayed, or have our already crowded flight over-booked due to travelers left stranded days before… and (b) most plane crashes have to do with ice, icy runways & mistakes in the de-icing process. Lovely. Plus, what if Osama decides to strike at the heart of the beast on that holiest of american cheese-days… valentine’s day? Not only would we be part of a news story with a tacky headline (2/14 - valentine’s day massacre), but we’d probably end up on an Oprah special with hearts & flowers & cupids superimposed over family photos and some crappy story about how we were flying to germany for a romantic valentine’s day holiday to “rekindle our love”. Ick.

Under the best of circumstances I don’t like to fly. I think it brings out the control freak in me… knowing my life is in some stranger’s hand is bad enough. Compound that with the miserable odds you have of surviving a plane crash, and I’m on high alert. I even know that most accidents happen within the first 15 minutes of take off… and the final 15 prior to landing. Jim wisely leaves me alone during these times as I’m usually not a nice, or optimistic person. Just know that if you’re watching the news Tuesday evening and hear of United flights crashing… I was the smartass sitting in the back going “I fuckin knew it”.

Which brings me to our seat assignments. By the time we booked our tickets the plane was already almost full (that’ll teach me to procrastinate) and I didn’t bother paying attention to where we were sitting. Fast forward to two weeks ago when, on a whim, I pull out our itinerary. Somehow on the longest leg of the flight (D.C. to Frankfurt) they had stupidly divided a family of four into three seats together and the other 4 rows up. Once I’d determined that no one was willing to leave me in peace and let me have the lone seat 4 rows up, this became a huge problem.

* on a side note, what the hell is wrong with my family?? How can I be so anti-social and yet surrounded by a group of people who can’t stand to be alone even for a second? I was practically salivating at the thought of ‘alone time’.

The worst part… they weren’t bad seats either, toward the front of economy plus. But judging by the uproar it was clear they were going to have to go. So I call United to get the seats changed… and the lady says “sorry, no can do… the flight’s booked now”. Never being one to take no for an answer, I make up a ridiculous story about how the girls are pertified to fly since 9/11 and their therapist advised we should all be together. I’m pretty sure I also threw in something about irritable bowel syndrome & submissive urination ( along those lines anyway…) when faced with undue stress. She put me on hold & came back a few minutes later with four seats together.

Feeling pretty damn proud of myself (no one tells me no!) I take down the seat numbers… 42 D,E,F & G. I knew these had to be basically the back of the plane, which are the shittiest seats known to man. Essentially we’re one row up from the last seats, and two rows up from the toilets. Goodie.

The red boxes completely surrounding our seats denote the worst spots on the plane… but hey, at least we’re not IN the red. So, not only will the 8 hour flight smell like crap (literally) and urinal cakes, but what do all the people waiting in line to avail themselves of the flying port-a-potties stare at? You got it, us. God forbid… they might even try to strike up a conversation.

On this day..

• I'm telling the aclu! - 2007
• Stoopid wordpress. - 2007
• Buchenwald, Weimar & a chicken soup chaser. - 2007