Inconsiderate People

 I’m back in the sunny south after running last Sunday in a cold rain with ice underfoot and, no, I didn’t fall, although I came close at least six times. My run this morning of 5 miles followed a 33+ mile bike yesterday and I’m bushed. I don’t know whether I’m mentally bushed or physically bushed (not to be confused with the whole country being “Bushed” into Iraq, but let’s not go there).

My long rides and long runs (if you call a 33 mile bike and a 5 mile run long) are alone. I love the warm weather but I miss running with friends and sitting around afterwards talking and “brunching” together. I guess everything comes with a price, and that’s the cost of nice weather. I’ll have to decide whether it’s worth it.

The flights back to hospital meetings are fine, and it does give me a chance to see friends once a month, but I’m somewhat surprised by the inconsiderate people that fly. I could give hundreds of examples, but this last trip seemed to have more than it’s share.

The flights up were fine, but I’m still amazed at people pushing to be first on the plane. When they board by rows, you have to run the gauntlet to get past the people vying to be first when their row is called. The gate attendant had to ask people who’s row hadn’t been called to step aside so the people who’s row had been called could get by them and onto the plane.

Once on the plane, there is always someone (one of the “world perks” people who get on right after first class), who is standing in the aisle going through their carry ons trying to find something. They could stay seated until everyone else has gotten to their seat, but no. They block the aisle until they find whatever piece of junk they were looking for. And wouldn’t you think if it was that important, they’d know where they put it?

The flight back down was also boarded by rows. The gate attendant called rows 24 through 27 and then rows 18 through 27. I was in row 15, so I sat there watching. One guy got in line and eventually handed his ticket to the attendant who said “Sir, your row hasn’t been called yet” and wouldn’t let him board. The guy said something like “Oh, I guess I didn’t hear you correctly” and sat back down. When rows 14 through 27 were called, he got back in line and just happened to be the guy sitting next to me.

An older couple, yes, older than me, went up when rows 18 through 27 were called and told the gate attendant that their seats weren’t together. He was in row 19, but she was in row 12. The attendant looked at the boarding passes and said, politely, “You’re both in row 19, side by side. Row 12 is your connecting flight and you’re both side by side there too.”

When we got in the air on the flight from Detroit to Tampa, the lead flight attendant came over the loud speaker and said “For the passengers in the main cabin, the rest room is at the rear of the plane. The forward rest room is for first class passengers only”. It wasn’t five minutes later and the three ladies in front of me, all traveling together, got up and went through the first class section and used their rest room. I’m not sure whether they just didn’t understand English, or whether they were thumbing their noses at “the elite”.

When we got to Tampa, three or four people got up before the plane had come to a complete stop, grabbed their carryons from the overhead bins, and moved several rows forward so they could get off the plane 15 seconds earlier than if they had stayed in the row where they sat. I can’t understand how that 15 seconds made any difference at all in the rest of their day and how they could inconvenience the people they forced their way in front of and still sleep at night. Maybe the most important thing in life is looking out for number one. If that’s the way things are headed, count me out.

I’ve been out shopping for some things for the mobe and I’ve come to the conclusion that some people shouldn’t be allowed to wear stretch pants.

Just (Warm But Missing My Friends) Jack

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