A couple of weeks ago I was flying to Sarasota, Florida to attend a conference for motivational speakers who have been in comas. Surprisingly, there are more of us than you might think.
As people were boarding the plane a Long Island sounding woman was speaking very loudly on her phone a few rows in front of me. Everyone could hear her conversation as well as smell her hairspray. Clearly she was angry, disappointed and totally feeling screwed over by some guy named Jack. She began screaming, “FUCK YOU, JACK! FUCK YOU, JACK! …” over and over and over.
Now, this was a plane on the way to Florida. Right around Passover and Easter. Smack dab in the middle of Spring Break. So not only were there lots of little kids on board, but there were a whole lot of rich, white-haired grandparents on board traveling with those children. The moment the angry woman started screaming the F-Word I saw seventy tanned, shriveled, Zales brand Cubic Zirconia-laden hands reach for the steward call button. Tennis charm bracelets were tinkling with all the activity and button pushing.
A steward, a pilot and a man wearing dark glasses and a suit were soon standing in the screamer’s aisle. They asked her to apologize to the people around her for her inappropriate language. Sufficiently shamed, she stood, and said, “I’m sorry.” She was clearly mortified.
Immediately following her apology some old biddy with a cross necklace started in with, “You should be! Using that kind of language …” And before she could go any further I stood up and said, “SHE SAID SHE’S SORRY. YOU’RE NOT GOING TO TEACH ANYONE A LESSON WE HAVEN'T ALREADY LEARNED HERE TODAY. NOW ORDER YOUR GIN AND TONIC AND ZIP IT.”
She ordered her G&T and we flew to Sarasota without further incident.
No comments:
Post a Comment