Something funny this way comes...

So, Erin requested that I share a funny experience I recently had while flying from Salt Lake City to Sacramento. Somehow, this flight ended up lasting 5 hours with stops in Phoenix and Ontario. A little out of the way, you say? Slightly.

Anyhow, apparently I wasn't the only crazy person to book this long legged flight, and after the first stop, those in it for the long haul ended up all sitting towards the front. Well, each segment of the flight was full, so, there was no way of maneuvering an empty seat next to you. This is where the story begins...

Leg 1: Flight is full, but it leaves on time. Flight attendants are male, and one thinks he is a joker. He kind of creeps me out. I think it was the bug-like eyes and the wide yellow-toothed smile that uttered the words, "Well, hello gorgeous!", that make me hug the window of that plane. Thank goodness for the book that Natalie gave me the day before. A good excuse for eye contact diversion. I have a Dr. Pepper, but wonder if he has tainted it...

Leg 2: I switch seats. Move a little closer to the front and to the opposite side. I should have stayed put. They begin the pre-board of the elderly, disabled, and families with small children. I look up from my book and there he is. Headed right in my direction. A "large" man, juggling and slamming three diaper bag sized satchels into each seat has he maneuvers his way towards me. He is the spitting image of Chris Farley meets the trailer park at Nascar. There is something hanging under his right arm, under mounds of flesh and hair and I soon discover that there, hanging like a rag doll, is his daughter...I am amazed as she just dangles there calmly, drinking her sippy cup as she is swung from side to side. It is amazing that the sippy cup doesn't lodge itself into the roof of her mouth. I hold my breath and breathe a sigh of relief as he sets up camp across the aisle from where I sit. I exhaled too soon. Not two seconds later did his wife come barrelling down the aisle with the other 5 bags and their second daughter. This time, luck has the last laugh. She takes the aisle seat in my row. The only hope I have is that this leg isn't full. As the plane continues its boarding, they swap children, mid air between passengers. I try to focus on my book, but before I know it, there is her youngest, coughing and snorting snot in and out of her little nose, laying half on/half off the seat between us. In record time, her mother yanks off her clothes, whips off her diaper, and begins the wipe down. I try not to look to see what touches the seat. She gets the clean diaper under the poor thing, and begins the process of attaching and reattaching the Velcro waist. She rolls the kid this way and that, back and forth, checking to see that both bum cheekies are fully covered. However, unbenounced to her, every time she rolls her daughter back, the poor child's head is knocked into the arm rest. After about the fourth time, she finally cries out in pain. Poor thing. Time again to swap kids and here comes the other daughter. The plane is almost full, and thus proceeds the changing of daughter number two. The plane is pretty much ready to go by the time she has stuffed both dirty diapers and wipes into the seat pocket in front of her, when I see a mother and daughter pair return from the back of the plane. There are only two open seats left. Next to me and across the aisle. The daughter sits next to me and I feel for her. At least I have the window to hug. Take off time has arrived. As we soar into the air, and the captain announces that all electronic devices can now be used, I look up for a brief moment. I am flabbergasted at the sight across the aisle. There amidst two sick children and a wife that hasn't stopped talking to every stranger on the plane, is the large man, sitting there in all beer-bellied glory, naked from the waist up. His shirt laying like a blanket over his breasts and gut. In shock, I wonder to myself, isn't there a "no shirt, no shoes, no fly" sign posted somewhere? This is definitely violating my personal space, and I'm not even sitting next to him! The drinks arrive, and I am smart enough to know that close quarters+spastic children+liquids=DISASTER. The girl next to me is not so wise in her youth. And after one sip, her drink is kicked over and dumped straight onto the lap of its owner. I bite my lip. One hour, 30 minutes or so later, the plane lands and the happy family, deplanes. I can almost hear cheering all around me. The plane empties, and those of us remaining, are speechless. We all make eye contact and know exactly what the other is thinking, but there aren't words to describe it.

Leg 3: I switch rows and seats. I took all necessary steps to get out of that germ infested row and into a different window seat. This leg, I tell the bug-eyed attendant, I can't stand to smell another bag of peanuts. Does he not have crackers? He slips me a bag of Ritz baked crackers. My consolation prize for a flight well endured.

I found this shortly thereafter and felt I needed to pay tribute to the belly's of the world.