In the company of men
I flew Southwest to Chicago and man, I missed Jet Blue. SW changed from the ABC lines to the 1-5, 6-10, 11-15 towers to stand by while in line. It’s still cattle being herded onto a plane. Why can’t they assign seats? And worse I picked to sit between two large men on the front row but unlike Jet Blue where the flight attendants save space for the front rows to put their luggage overhead, I had to walk four rows back to tuck my bag in.
I sat back down and the man on my right kept trying to engage me in banter even though I had the entire Sunday New York Times under my nose. So when he said about the Southwest women that got off as we were about to push back that any of those women could have been his fifth wife, and turned to me and nudged me and said that is supposed to be funny, I responded, “Or they could have been mine.” That quieted him down.
Later he got to me about the pizza he ordered once with 100 ingredients. He said what are the four things you don’t put on a pizza ever under any circumstances – I said pineapple. Damn, he said, I agree there are five things you should never put on a pizza – anchovies, shrimp, jalapeños, or salmon. Now pineapple. He wanted me to go out with him and his buddies to have a real Chicago pizza and despite the fact that I was running solely on banana fuel, I declined.
But when I found out he had a chihuahua, I had to regale him with my chihuahua joke and that got a good belly laugh.