Here's my usual airline scenario. I board, stow my shit, get seated, then flip open my book/magazine. Every now and then, I'll glance up to see who's heading my way. Some schlutz carrying an arm full of duty free shop bags, plus a bag about 6 inches greater in circumference than is acceptable as carry on. Still gonna try to cram it into the bin amongst everything else. "Stupid jackass. They should shoot him," I usually mutter under my breath as the peanut chunker comes to tell him his bag is too big and will have to be checked. He puts up a momentary fuss before finally relenting and handing the bag over.
He finally sits about 5 rows up and to the opposite side of the aircraft from me. The line of passengers waiting to get to their seats has grown considerably since the jackass's futile attempt at hammering a square peg into a round hole. It stretches all the way to the door.
About 8 people in is this pretty hot looking gal, dressed professionally, not slutty. I start thinking how pleasant the trip to San Diego would be sitting next to her. She keeps coming my way, looking to my side of the plane. "I've got a chance," I kid myself. She eases into the row directly in front of me, just close enough to get an intoxicating sniff of her perfume.
"Damnit!"
Another chance approaches about 4 people behind her. She looks my way, passes, and takes a seat in the row behind me.
I look up to see what fate has dealt me. Maybe I'll have the 2 seats to myself, I think, Fat chance.
I see a guy about 7 people up the line. 300 pounds, stuffed into a cheap suit with a tie that is wrapped around his meaty neck. It's all askew and looks like he is trying to hang himself. He is hugging a wadded mass of crumpled newspapers, a "to go" bag from the airport sandwich shop, and he is sweating like a guy running an asphalt steam roller in Greene county in the middle of August.
"You're my bitch," karma whispers to me. "Enjoy your next 3 hours."
And, just to prove karma is a heartless bitch, every now and then I catch a brief whiff of that sweet perfume, It's fleeting, and quickly driven away by the stench of the lummox that is wedged into the seat next to me.