So, before we move on from the Veuve Clicquot Polo Classic (more photos throughout today’s post), I’ve got to tell you guys about the total psycho that was on my flight to New York last weekend.
I left Chicago late last Friday after teaching my usual SoulCycle class… My flight wasn’t until 10 p.m., and since it was the last one out it wasn’t full.
I boarded with the first group (gotta love those Business Class upgrades, though), and a pretty-looking lady with some seriously killer style sits down in the single aisle seat next to me.
The flight boards one by one, when all of a sudden I see a frustrated-looking, middle-aged man flanked between me and said pretty-looking lady. (I was in the seat across the aisle from her.) All of a sudden — despite having my over-the-ear headphones on — I hear him start raising his voice.
Chill, homie. He is pissed about something. (Ah, New York. I miss it!)
“Sir!” He yells — YELLS — to the flight attendants, 10 rows up; “Someone is unauthorized to be sitting my seat! Please HELP.”
Lol, wait. Da fuq? Is a grown ass man seriously yelling about this?
“Huh? Oh, me? Sorry,” the woman said nicely, glancing down at her ticket. Wrong seat — easy mistake, right? “You could have just asked me to move.”
I found myself nodding from the other side of the aisle. She’s right, you know.
“Uh, no. I don’t know you! And you know what? I didn’t ask you to sit in my f–king seat.”
He’s still shouting. And now he’s caused quite the scene. Clearly, this guy must be from New York. (No offense intended, here – I used to live in Manhattan and I know how, uh, intense, some people can be.)
“Asshole,” someone murmurs. “F—k you!” is his retort.
… Guys, I couldn’t even make this shit up. Why is it that some people get kicked off planes for shit and not others?
I couldn’t stop staring at him the entire flight. Truly.
Around 30 minutes later, we’re airborne at last and they’re serving cocktails, so obvs I order (my second) glass of wine. (“Red or white, that’s it” were my options, in case you were wondering.)
Now, back to the asshole sitting next to me. Guess what he had to drink?
Coffee. Three of them, to be exact — with three creamers in each. Trés. He also asks for a bottle of water and instructs the flight attendant “not to open it” out of his eyesight.
I. Shit. You. Not. I should add that it’s 10:56 p.m. – I’m typing this as it’s happening because I don’t want to forget a single detail of it.
Right as I don’t think it his behavior can get any better, he pulls out his computer. I expect him to start looking at porn or stocks or something super macho and Wall Street-y, right? No. He pulls up the… Are you ready for it?
KATY PERRY MOVIE.
The fucking Katy Perry documentary.
I can’t. I’m done.
All right, so.
Moral of the post: Don’t be that guy. Don’t be a dick. Our world would be a whole lot better if we could all be just a little bit nicer to one another, don’t you think? Kindness doesn’t cost a damn thing.
Oh, and here are some photos of the Veuve Cliquot Polo Classic that I eventually made it to the next morning.
It ended up being a really wonderful weekend… I miss New York, but to be totally honest, I’m really happy feel at home in Chicago — and with my fellow Midwesterners.