The Plane

I was already seated when I saw them enter the plane.  They made an unusual threesome.  She was in her mid-forties and clearly a wealthy Orange County woman on her way home from a trip to Chicago.  Her, blatantly spoiled, tween daughter accompanied her.  The tween daughter had diamonds on.  Real diamonds for a (maybe) 12 year old.  The Old Man followed behind them, but it was clear he was traveling with them.  He must have been in his mid-eighties and despite his feebleness he carried with him an air of privilege.  

She stopped at the row of seats behind me.  She told the man seated on the aisle that she'd like him to move so the three of them could sit together.  She pointed to the middle seat next to me and told him he could take it instead.  The man looked at her incredulously and politely refused to give up his assigned aisle seat.  She huffed a few times and then she and her daughter took their seats adjacent to him.

The Old Man was left standing in the aisle.  Suddenly she realized he didn't know where to be seated and she began barking orders at him.  When it became clear he should be seated next to me I got up to allow him in.  He gave me a sheepish smile as he sat down.

I have a weakness for old men.  There is something about an old man that makes my heart turn all soft and squishy.  I wanted to like him.  I knew I would like him.

I was wrong.

Almost immediately The Old Man was leaning into me.  He was not a big man, but his seat alone didn't satisfy him.  He took over the armrest between us and encroached on my minimal leg space.  His body, although frail, seemed to fill at least half of my seat.  I found myself leaning out into the aisle just to escape his touch.

Moments after take-off he fell asleep.  He leaned more heavily against me and there was no escaping him now.  I sighed.  I was exhausted.  I wouldn't mind dozing off myself but now I had The Old Man sleeping on my shoulder.  I didn't have the heart to disturb him.  I knew I would never sleep.  

From behind me I could hear the woman and girl who accompanied him.  They were loud.  Their conversation was shallow.  They typified all the personality traits I don't care for in Orange County and none of the positive ones.

I glanced down at The Old Man and my heart began to pound.  His mouth had fallen open and his face was pale.  He didn't appear to be breathing.

"Omigod he's dead!" I thought.

For a few heart-pounding moments I was convinced of it.  I had a dead man on my shoulder and OhDearGawdWhatDoIDoNow?  

I had a dead man on my shoulder and oddly enough, the lyrics to Funeral for a Friend immediately began running through my head.  

He snorted.  His body jerked.  He snorted again.

He was alive!

It must have taken a good ten minutes for my heart rate to slow back down from the scare.  

I glanced at The Old Man again and to my horror a strand of drool was hanging from his mouth.  It was hanging and it was getting longer as it threatened to eventually reach, or perhaps suddenly drop, onto my clothes.

The Old Man made a gurgling sound deep in his throat and the stream of drool lengthened by a couple more centimeters.

I gagged.  The snorting, the gurgling, and the drool had all become far too much for me.  I tried to focus on something else.  I reminded myself I love old men.  I tried to think about the hottest man I'd seen over the weekend as a distraction.  It didn't work.  I gagged again.

I tried to be gentle (so as not to make the drool fall!) as I gently removed his head from my shoulder and his slouching body from my side.  I pushed him back into his own seat and hoped his body would fall against the man in the window seat.

A moment later he awoke with a start.  He sucked up the drool hanging from his mouth with a loud slurping noise.  I averted my glance because the noises alone threatened to make me puke.  He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began blotting at his drool covered chin.

I grimaced.  I stared straight ahead.  I could feel his eyes studying me, but I pretended not to notice.

Fifteen minutes later he was asleep on me again.  This time his head began on my shoulder but gradually slipped down towards my breast.  His hand fell from the armrest onto my lap.  A few more minutes went by and his head fell lower on my chest.  I began to get suspicious.

I noticed The Old Man's breathing was nothing like it had been earlier when he slept.  I began questioning whether he was asleep at all.  Then his hand moved ever so slightly.  It was almost as if it crept in slow motion across my leg.

I glanced at The Old Man's face.  And that is when I saw ... just a glimmer of a smile on his face.

In less than a second I grabbed his hand and thrust it off of me.  I roughly shoved him completely off of me and back into his own seat.  

He gave me a startled and irritated glare.

Now it was my turn to lean into him.  I got right in his face and I said, "Stay in your own seat and don't you dare touch me again!"

He didn't.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Comments

[Margaret (Nanny Goats)]

Ack!

just Ack.

Oh, and Ewwwwwwwwwww!

[Tracy Davis]

You were far too kind to him!!

[Jan]

Oh, girl - it took you WAY too long to do that.

Creepy, dirty old men. I hate 'em.

[di]

I'd have said a lot more than you did. Too bad the fist fellow didn't give up his seat, although the Orange County B did not deserve to have him do it, it probably would have been a more enjoyable flight for the two of you to be seated together... ACK... flying... hate it.

Di
The Blue Ridge Gal

[Alan]

Wow. I've flown hundreds of times and NEVER have I been felt up by an old woman. Who drools. And whose breath stinks.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Hope you got some rest once you got home!

(Its not really funny...but it kinda is...right?)

[Celeste Maia]

Hahaha, what a good story teller you are. You can make a horrid situation be totally hillarious. Ewwww, the old man drooling...you were far too polite with him. Even though that Orange Country B must make his life miserable, he did not deserve such patience from you. Oh the joys of travelling in economy class, our space is getting more and more reduced, we are really like sardines in a can.

[Donna in VA]

There was a day and time that I would have been as tolerant as you were. I don't know how I'd react now. Menopause has stolen my "tolerant" filter.
But I say, "Good for you for putting drooling dirty old man in his place!" Eeeewwwwwwhh!

[dogmother]

For a minute I felt sorry for him because he has sleep apnea, but not anymore! Yuk.

[Kristan]

WOW. EW. BLECH.

This is why I like old people as a concept but not as much as a real thing...

[Maureen at IslandRoar]

Ick. I probably would have been as tolerant initially as you were. A fault? I'm not so sure, but luckily you snapped out of it in time to whip him into shape.
You tell a great story!

[Mike]

As a man who hopes one day to be a "Dirty old man," (only in the best sense of the term) I, too, find his behavior offensive. The old "copping a feel while falling asleep" trick.. puhleese! That's creepier than the all to frequent "over-long hug"

At worst, I might pinch your bottom while your'e looking the other way, at best, discreetly scope you out, but when you look me in the eye, you know you'll get a wink and a smile.

One should be proud of their afflictions. :-)

[Sprite's Keeper]

Oh, EW!
Maybe you should post a warning on the header to not eat yogurt while reading this. :-)

[churchpunkmom]

EW. creepy old man!!

*shudder*

I normally adore old men too. But yeah... no.

[Christine]

My stomach suddenly isn't liking my breakfast...

Dirty old man!

[Pseudo]

Eeeewwwww. Gross. Ewwwww. is that how the shallowwoman put diamonds on her litle girl? EEEEEWWWWWWWWW.

[missy]

I just lost my appetite for breakfast this morning!

[Jack]

And now you remind me again of why I don't like flying.

[Linda]

1st - EWWWWWW
2nd - I would have slapped him. My meds don't work that well when it comes to this sort of thing.
3rd - Bravo for your restraint.

[LPC]

I cannot believe he had the gall to do this to you on a plane. What is the world coming to?

[Kim]

That is unbelievably creepy. I think I gagged a bit myself just reading about it. Nothing worse than a nasty, dirty old man. Blech!

[Lynette]

I think I threw up in my mouth a little bit. That's just NASTY.

Nothing worse than a dirty old man. Except drool, ugh...

[Shay]

Wow. The nerve. *shaking head*

[patois]

So I guess it's not THOSE kind of old men you like. Whew.

[Kelly]

OK - just GROSS. I think I'd have snapped his wrist the second his creepy old hand started moving.

[Sandra]

O M G That is just creepy. And disgusting. And awful!! Good for you for barking at him. What a perv.

[kathygee1]

I have no words! GAG!

[stoneskin]

"I have a weakness for old men. There is something about an old man that makes my heart turn all soft and squishy."

For many that has been famous last words. I would be careful if I were you.

[The Queen of Chaos]

Absolutely unacceptable. I would have probably screeched!

[Kellee]

Creepy creepy creepy!!! I'm glad you stood up for yourself... I guess that is what you get for having "cute nipples", eh? ;)

[Cate]

EEEEWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!

Think that says it all!

[North County Mike]

The real question is who is the biggest perv? Is it the dirty old man or this dirty young woman?

http://www.ocregister.com/articles/jacoby-school-sexual-2511910-high-jones

[Christyswin]

That was an awesome funny post! Still laughing.
I met you at Blogher, but you probably wouldn't remember me. I was the door "sshhhhher" at the cheeseburgher party....yah, the old one. Seriously, you are funny.
I'm sorry if it wasn't meant to be, but it was.

[Charlotte]

Man, that description of the drool almost made me puke, right here at my desk. Ewwww.

Glad you stood up to him.

[sometimessophia]

Gross. Disgusting old man. For shame. I would have insisted on his being moved to a new seat. ... in the back where the cabin attendents could keep an eye on him...