The flight on Wednesday from Raleigh to Baltimore was inconsequential. It was also one-third empty, with no one in the middle seats.
The return flight this Friday afternoon represents a clear example of the pain and misery the flying public is willing to endure for a cheap ticket. That I endure this crap is testiment to my need for my paycheck.
I'm wishing now I had driven.
SWA does not assign seats. No matter how early you book that flight, you board like cattle. This means you stand in line, or you carry fake medical papers for earlier boarding.
It was better when I was using a cane. Maybe I have my motivation to limp again.
Cattle boarding also means people generally choose seats from the front of the plane to the rear. Let's add 50% to the time you'll spend in that line.
Today, my boarding pass was B58. I was the 58th person in the second line. The plane is full, and five people were behind me. This means I'm in the middle seat of the next to last row.
This also means my computer is under the seat before me where my feet should be. If the flight were more than 45 minutes long, someone's doom would be sealed.
I've never had a psychology class, but I do study people a little. The fellow to my left has zoned out with his tunes. He's listing to the left to avoid my touch. This means my left thigh is off at an angle claiming a little space for the Kingdom of Jim, and that I also get the left arm rest.
Yes, I know how to be difficult.
To my right, is a holy rolling wingnut reading a religious tract. The return addie says Alabama. The fellow us also above average size. Our body parts are rubbing, and I only wish that I had a copy of the Blade.
So, it's not a happy flight. I doubt I'm adding to the joy. We'll be on the ground in about 30 minutes. I might have to marry the man to the right then.
Oh dear. Aisle Seat Boy is asleep. I might need to pee.