I’m The Guy Who Stands Up As Soon As The Plane Lands, And You Slowpokes Better Be Ready To Move

Photo by Gratisography from Pexels

This is it, people! Showtime.

My ass has been hovering a half-inch above my seat since we began our descent 20 minutes ago, and you better believe I’m gonna shoot up like a geyser as soon as the plane’s wheels kiss the tarmac.

Are my quads burning? Sure. Does it feel like someone’s driven a rusty railroad spike through my lower back? You betcha. But I refuse to waste another moment being on this plane. I did not sit through a five-hour flight from Boise to Buffalo just to spend an additional 30–45 seconds waiting for you slowpokes to shuffle out of here like brain-dead cattle.

Hey, 14B! Get the lead out of your ass and grab that computer bag from under your seat. I swear to God if I see you fumbling with that thing at the last second I’ll hurl you straight out the emergency exit with the reckless abandon of a baggage handler working the tail end of a 12-hour shift.

Yo, Don Juan in 6C! Stop chatting up blondie in 6B and look sharp. Chick’s not into you, man. Save us all the time of trying to get her number and focus on the task at hand: shaving crucial seconds off our deplaning time.

Can someone please wake up 3E and tell him to shake a leg? I mean, thank you for your service and all…