The Final Open Letter To The Woman In Seat 12-APosted: July 28, 2011
Dear Woman in Seat 12-A,
I decided to break my letter to you into two parts. I know that you are very busy slap fighting your son and teaching him to play the pipe organ by showing him You Tube videos. It was just simple consideration for another person’s time that led me to split my thoughts between two letters. You’re familiar with being considerate of others, right? Wait, scratch that last question. I almost forgot who I was talking to.
Just like the last letter, I am going to use this one to suggest some You Tube videos you might want to find and look over. You seem to understand things when they are presented to you in the online video format. Given that I took an elbow in the side of the head during your inflight slap fight with your son, 12-B, I have no qualms about throwing out a few thoughts based on observations I made of your behavior and your son’s.
The first video I think you should go find is called “how to drink Cranapple juice”.
I’ll explain in just a moment why you might want an instructional video on drinking .
Before I do, I thought I’d just point out how much people appreciate it when you say please and thank you. You may be impressed that you can get a whole can of juice on the plane by demanding it from the Flight Attendant, but no one else is. Would it have killed you to say please? And after one acquires a pile of snack bags of peanuts so large even George Washington Carver would say you’re a little too obsessed with peanuts, it is certainly appropriate to thank the Flight Attendant.
Once you and 12-B had your full cans of juice it got ugly. Let me review what I watched him do with his Cranapple juice, step by step:
- pour juice into cup of ice
- lift the cup and take a mouthful of juice
- hold the juice without swallowing it
- swish it around in his mouth
- spit half the mouthful back into the cup and swallow what is left in his mouth
- repeat, until the can is empty
Ma’am, I don’t live with 12-B, you do. He is 17 years old. You can’t convince me that you’ve never seen him do this, he did it in front of a complete stranger. You really should do something about it. You should have done something a long time ago.
I’m pretty sure that Cranapple is the juice of choice for organists. If it were not, you probably wouldn’t have ordered it for him. But I question whether such a well developed yet repulsive drinking regime will be accepted by his peers over at the cathedral? Now might be a good time to get on You Tube and find a video that shows him how most polite humans consume liquid.
12-A, I’m not going to judge you because you happen to drop the f-bomb now and again. I too let the big bad word fly now and again. I am judging you because you don’t know when to stop and because your constant use of the word makes your attempts to appear a pious church woman look very silly. My last suggestion is that you find a You Tube video to instruct you on the proper use of the bad, bad word.
Ma’am, what you f-ing seem unable to under f-ing stand is that when you pepper every f-ing sentence with the f-word it makes you look like a classless f–k. What the f–k do you think you accomplish by saying it all the time? I hope when you find the video it will also make a f-ing strong effort at letting you know when you f-ing drop the f-ing f-bomb too f-ing much it begins to lose its explosive power.
Lastly, it sounded ridiculous when you prayed aloud after our flight landed, thanking Jesus for getting us safely home. The prayer itself wasn’t a problem, it was when you followed it up with the declaration that you “can not wait to get off this m-f’er”. Very classy.
12-A, you and your son were wonderful travel partners. I will always fondly remember our last exchange on the plane:
12-B: Momma, why isn’t he getting off the plane?
You: I don’t know, I’m ’bout ready to get off the m-f-ing plane.
Me: You two know I can hear you, don’t you?
You: (shocked stare)
Me: Where should I go?
You and 12-B : (Blank Stare)
Me: Maybe I should climb over all these people in front of us?
You and 12-B: (Blank Stare)
Me: Good luck with the pipe organ
12-B: How do you know I play the organ?
Me: You do remember I can hear, right?
12-B: (Blank stare)
Ma’am, the plane door wasn’t even open. No one was moving. With all due respect, you have not exactly raised an engineer, have you?