September 30, 2003
I have found myself recently not liking other people very much.
I am unsure how this happened. Traditionally, I have been a nice, friendly, people-loving sort of bloke. But lately, I have found myself encountering more people whom I'd like to throttle than people I would like to hug.
But what is causing this? Is it the ongoing war with Iraq? John Ashcroft? My recurring nightmare in which Tony Armstrong performs "I'm a Little Teapot" while dressed as a Care Bear in Army fatigues?
I don't think so. I've decided that it stems from the fact that I have been traveling a LOT recently. And for some reason, God, showing His ever-warped sense of humor, has been sticking me next to people who have some sort of serious hygiene issue(s).
As an example of this, let's discuss my last trip, which I took late last week.
I was traveling to San Antonio for a committee meeting, and I had to fly into Phoenix to change planes before making my way to San Antonio. The first leg was on one of those "regional jets" that have only four seats in each aisle; they seat a total of 80. Basically, they're converted toy airplanes with pilots. And whomever does the seat lettering on these planes is somewhat retarded. On the left side of the plane are seats A and C; on the right are D and F. As for what happened to the letters "B" and "E," I have no idea. I blame some weird letter-hoarding plot by communists for their disappearance.
But that's not the point, which is: On the way to Phoenix, I (in seat F) sat next to a man (in seat D) whose breath smelled like a pig's feet processing plant. It was vile. I'd notice that everytime he turned toward me, to look out the window, there would be this … odor.
I held my breath and joyously deplaned when we got to the Phoenix airport. After a cleansing run to Starbucks and a short layover, I was ready to get back on a plane and go to San Antonio.
And you know what happened? I am being totally serious when I say that the exact same thing happened, only worse.
This time, I was on a real plane, with six seats in each aisle. I was again in seat F, and the man in seat E had the worst breath I had ever encountered. As God as my witness, this man's breath was so bad, I could smell it while he faced forward, not toward me, as he breathed through his nose.
By the time the two-hour flight was over, I was NOT the happiest camper in the KOA Kampground of life. I managed to make it all the way without saying something ("Sir, why does your breath smell like a corpse rotting in a septic tank?") or doing anything violent (like stuffing the in-flight magazine through his facial orifices in an effort to stop the airflow).
I was so traumatized that I considered just staying in San Antonio, in order to avoid having to get on a damn plane ever again.
But after two days there, I had worked up the courage to again try flying in close quarters with more humans. Thus, I went to the airport and -- to my surprise -- was not seated next to anyone who smelled poorly. Of course, the flight wasn't very full, and nobody was sitting next to me, but hey, a start's a start.
I got off the plane in Phoenix, happy that only one leg was left on my journey. I sat down and waited for the brief amount of time on my layover to pass, when several middle-aged women came over and sat across from me.
I quickly realized that one of the women, a redhead wearing some hideous sweatshirt with flowers on it, was having a serious nasal issue, and instead of addressing it with a facial tissue, or a bilge pump, she decided to just SNORT up the phlegm every few seconds.
Oh, one more bit of detail: Our gate was directly across from a Cinnabon stand. This impressed Ms. Snorty Pants, who, at one point -- and I SWEAR this is true -- decided to comment.
"Mmmm. SNORT! Don't those cinnamon rolls just make your mouth water? SNORT!"
People like THIS are the perfect example why humanity is starting to get on my nerves. Cinnamon buns are now ruined for me. This is not fair.
Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan in exile in Arizona who thinks EVERYONE should use mouthwash before plane flights. Jimmy's column appears here Tuesdays, and a column archive may be viewed at www.jimmyboegle.com.