The Assholedness of Reclining
i guess we just have to give your momma the benefit of the doubt
we owe it to mommas everywhere just to give them that we just have to assume that
your momma
she tried to teach you manners
we just have to assume that way back when like last week when your momma was still wiping your bum when your momma was still wiping your snotty nose way back when like last week when you were supposed to be sitting up and paying attention hands in your lap not all slouched down reclining in your cute little desk
complete with pokeman appliqué haphazardly arranged
we just have to assume that when you were supposed to be in kindergarten that you were out working your eco-mojo trying to cop and sell your seat on the teeter totter trying to convince those in your pull-up diaper crowd that the top seat really was worth more than the bottom seat we just have to assume that you were out
optimizing your own personal comfort
the day they were teaching manners and respect
we just have to assume that mister i’m so smart i can explain everything in eco-fucking-nomic theory because
hey
it’s all about rational behavior
and economics is about nothing if not the assumption of rational behavior and these days we all know that crawling through the portal of these giant flying sardine cans with all of our best earthly possessions and assorted battery operated marital aids and portable pharmacies both legal and not stuffed into canvas steamer trunks on roly poly wheels automatically qualifies each and every one of us as
rational human beings
who somewhat willingly give the chubby old thurston howell the third looking white guy in a starched but slept-in uniform complete with a little american flag lapel pin and starry epaulets who stretches tight a thin-lipped smile beneath a hangover and a durante-like schnozzola displaying in 4K hyperlive resonance a myriad of burst blood vessels the reigns to the carriage
along with our blessings
which somehow translate into a verbal contract where we surrender our basic human rights to comfort and hygiene
all in the name of getting from here to there and perhaps maybe hopefully back again
this coming after we’ve allowed fat not phat friendlies to strip us and probe us and sniff our shoes like some organization of authority wielding podinal perverts posting before xray machines bought from the backs of archie may he rest in toonland peace comic books
and then we yeah ok then i finally get into my seat dutifully assigned by intelligent design in which only a playful god who was shitfaced drunk could have played a hand
maybe i’m lucky enough to not be sitting in the back next to the toilet where i not only have the pleasure of absorbing the blue lagoon aroma arising in that pépé le pew sort of way visibly swirling twirling from source to air from the stereo doors of the twin thrones sometimes they flush in unison
not only do i have this pleasure
but i get the additional joy of conversing with those simply waiting in line who want to know how i’m are enjoying the book i’m reading the video i’m watching the spreadsheet i’m compiling
maybe i’m lucky enough to get me one of them fancy ee-con-oh-me plus seats with the extra whole three to four inches of legroom
jesus it’s enough to get me so full of the spirit i might simply fly myself home
and then
maybe it’s
but
then
strutting down the aisle like john fucking wayne comes some barro dude wearing his fine franco-italian sewn in shenzhen wool suit with the i’m an economist and people are bowling pins with singular rational motivations who willingly enter into all transactions with a clear mind and a clear heart pattern
might as well have been an ecru chartreuse plaid
and he sits right in front of me and we all pack in and crawl over each other and shuffle our luggage around and sniff each other’s armpits and yesterday’s underwear
oh yeah come on now you can’t hide it i’d know your sweet sugary self anywhere
and to summarize to date before we move onto the assholedness of the seat reclining about to be performed to summarize to date i and it’s not just about me any more we have all been subjected to pre-emptive questioning bordering on each and every one of us to some degree or another and all in the name of
security
each and every one of us has already been subjected either directly or indirectly to accusations that we are criminals of the highest order
it is already assumed that each and every one of us have malice of intent to inflict harm both bodily and emotionally oh especially emotionally upon our fellow passengers and
if we are lucky
upon the masses of innocents thirty thousand feet below
each and every one of us has already been asked required to strip ourselves of our outer garments either physically or virtually we’ve been asked required to remove our shoes
again with the implied accusation that we are desperados devoted to the devil himself
which gives them
with these
them
being as mysteriously vaporous as my evening puff-la i for the life of me can’t figure who them be i’m feeling all pogo we has met the enemy and he is us
which somehow gives them the right to dig through our luggage and play with our toys and try on our underwear and sniff our aftershave and pop our ambien
so all that shit has already gone down we have already been humiliated and our self-respect spit upon and we get all snuggly together strapped in strapped down and the waitresses try on plastic vests and show us how they would look all
restrained
and the cap’n comes on the loudspeaker and cracks some military joke and then we taxi for like thirty seven hours jockeying for position with every other plane also filled to the brim with schmucks like us
and then we get that old familiar rush the roar of the jets the thrill of acceleration and we get that leveling off feeling that touches my stomach in that floating balloon sort of way and i settle in settle back try to get my legs to fit legs to extend if only slightly
drop my tray maybe pop open my laptop i’m a working fool gotta stay connected for fucksake
and then barrodude in the ecru plaid without so much as a plop plop fizz fizz howdy do he does the bada bing drop his bald head back right beneath my nose where i can count the dandruff flakes as they drift off and threaten the screen of my mac
because he can i mean it is his right because when he bought his seat he also bought if he so chose if he so decided on a whim or with calculated cool to pop that little button on the armrest that i imagine he also claimed was his economic right
he also bought the right to pop that button and take advantage of the additional angular couple of inches that in all probability means less for him and more to me
in a relative sense of leg space versus
what
a couple of inches further away from the seat in front of you
so yeah
economic theory aside
barro you’re that asshole that i really loathe to find myself accompanying in the air you’re that guy that
yeah
i’ll give you your little petty rights that fall within your sense of fair and balanced
but if shit happens on this plane and i’m in the exit row and i get the choice to help you or the fellow who did not recline his seat
why don’t you guess how you might want to kiss your ass goodbye
