Flights, part one.

Oh my god, internet. Everyone on this plane right now is a hot mess. Seriously. There are 19 people on this plane. Two of them were crying before we even got on the plane. There’s somebody up front who was chewing on a pillow as I walked by – I think he’s having a nervous breakdown. And of course, the woman right in front of me informed our charming Southern flight attendant a mere minute before takeoff that she’s prone to flight sickness, so she’s currently sitting with a plastic bag wrapped around her head and I’m currently sitting here thinking DON’T SPEW LADY. DON’T YOU DARE SPEW.

Our flight attendant, I should mention, has some hair situation happening that I cannot even begin to talk about. Madre and I spent the first 5 minutes on the plane playing a dedicated game of Is That a Wig? I’m currently of the opinion that it’s a hair piece that has been teased and prodded so far to the edge of extinction that it looks like someone my dear cat Marmaduke could have produced it by gnawing on it for several hours with his singular tooth. There could be a (Oh god. Oh god I think Airsickness Lady’s gonna spew. DON’T YOU DARE LADY.) bump-it in there too. Whatever’s happening in there, it’s lopsided and a sickly blonde-orange color and really not working for her.

She’s pretty cute otherwise, though. And super Southern. Like, speaks-so-slow-I-forgot-the-word-she-just-said-before-she-gets-the-next-word-out Southern. Like, we literally sat on the runaway and waited for her to finish her safety speech Southern.

(Okay, Airsickness Lady just ordered herself a glass of wine. This is gonna be good.)

All the sudden the turbulence in this plane got serious. Everyone’s holding on for dear life, although as Mamma Mia rightfully pointed out, if we fall, holding on ain’t gonna make a goddamn lick of difference. Oh my goodness, we’re all gonna die.

(]Shit, I think I’m gonna spew)

Airsickness has slugged her wine and has an icepack firmly pressed against her head. She seems… better?

You know what, I think that might be the flight attendant’s real hair after all. The boobs, however, are definitely fake.

Oh god. This is the worst flight ever.

One comment

  1. Pingback: Flights, part two. | her name was cassandra

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