Sunday, December 16, 2007

25 hours

That’s how long it took to get from Geneva to San Antonio.

The only person I work with whom I truly dislike was on my transatlantic flight. I saw him get on the plane, but he didn’t see me.

About halfway through the second episode of House on the in-flight entertainment system, my seatmate got up to use the restroom. I decided that I ought to get up and go, too, even though I didn’t really need to yet. I didn’t want to have to wake her up later on.

She and I were waiting in line for the restroom behind a woman and her little girl. The little girl was desperate—she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to make it.

We waited.

And waited.

And waited. The flight attendants had to squeeze past us several times to get up and down the aisle. And the little girl was honestly about to wet herself.

We ended up waiting somewhere between 15 and 20 minutes for the restroom. Just as the woman at the head of the line asked “Who takes this long?!” under her breath, the restroom door opened.

Out came the person I dislike.

He saw me and greeted me warmly. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Just my luck!


The DP said...

why did it take so long?
Ours takes 16 to new orleans under normal circumstances...but it took 25 this go around.

Princess Cat's Pajamas said...

My second flight got changed, so I had a six-hour layover. I didn't really mind, though... I ended up getting to see one of my best friends in the airport. We hadn't seen each other for almost three years.