Straighten up and fly right

Every day it seems there's a new reason to hate flying—the checked baggage fees, the ever-expanding list of prohibited carry-on items, the security checkpoint prostate test. On their own, they're each annoying, but put them all together and it's no surprise that the rates of self-inflicted death by Cinnabon are on the rise. This past week as Carrie and I took our last trip out of state before the baby comes (details on the trip in a future post), we got to experience all of the above (good news, we're polyp free!) plus more. The "more" refers to a pet peeve of mine, one that reared its ugly head on each leg of our trip—the mass transit recliner. Without fail, every time the seat belt ding goes off on a flight I'm on, the jackass in front of me kicks back like they're in a bacalounger in the man cave. Suddenly I go from being a simple airline passenger to an unwilling participant in some form of mile-high tandem luge, my only option being to grin and bear it or offer them a shave like I'm Floyd the barber. It's not just that "recliners" are uncourteous, it's that they actually think that being 5 degrees closer to prone is suddenly going to transport them into a world of comfort and relaxation. Face it people, you're going to be uncomfortable, don't make it worse for someone else. Just because the button is there doesn't mean you have to push it. Suck it up and enjoy your party peanuts.

Thanks, I feel better.