I’ve come up with a patentable idea which I’m sure will net me a positively indecent amount of money, and the world will thank me. I have invented the partitionable airplane.
First, we have the area for tantrums – at the rear of the plane, preferably on those little biddy wing things on the tail. No, no, all right, all right, in the interest of humanitarianism, the tantrum throwers can be housed in the pressurized cabin – I suppose.
Take for example the 3-year-old who, as we would say in ‘Straya, "chucked a wobbly" all the way from Germany to New Jersey. Eight solid hours of a screaming, demonic child who would, in my humble opinion, have benefited greatly from a good spanking and a dose of children’s Tylenol, or possibly a stiff Scotch, and then another spanking for good measure.
He could be housed, way, way up the back with the delightful "grown up" – and I use the term extremely loosely – who, on her way from JFK to Syracuse, New York, emulated our 3-year-old and chucked said wobbly because the airline had the audacity to park her capacious butt on a seat next to a delightful looking young mother and her equally delightful looking 8-month-old baby.
She was hysterical that not only her seat appeared in the back of the aircraft (get used to it sister, have I got a spot for you), but that the child might cry on her 1 hour and 20-minute flight. I would like to point out that not only was said infant absolutely adorable, but said infant hadn’t, and didn’t, offer up a peep during the tirade.
So now we have an area on the plane to decamp 3-year-old and 53-year-olds down the back behind sound-proof barriers.
Immediately in front of this hopefully small section, we can house those with their exotic emotional support animals (see my column re same in form of peacock). These, with luck, would form a visual distraction to the distressed further back.
Just in front of this partitioned area, I think we will reserve space for those encumbered with body odors, both internal and external, along with the drunkards, and those likely to throw up in their air-sick bags.
A recent altercation caused a plane to divert on the trip from Dubai to Amsterdam to make an emergency landing in Vienna. The cause? Well let me enlighten you.
Apparently two Dutch dudes objected, and who could blame them, as they were sitting next to a "flatulent passenger." They repeatedly asked him to stop emanating odors, but, possibly due to a language barrier, or sheer bloody-mindedness, our aeronautical farter refused to comply.
Now I don’t know about you, and I hope I don’t destroy your delicate sensibilities, but I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to "force"’ a botty cough, as you can force a burp, but I’m here to tell you, it doesn’t end prettily.
And really, when it comes down to it, with all the propelled air rocketing around the joint, the plane might have landed early, thus letting all the normal and tolerant humans up front to get off first.
It’s a win-win situation ladies and gentlemen.
-- Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org