I walk down the aisle and take my seat by the window. Almost immediately a large, horse-faced woman with platinum hair sits down beside me. She smells like a mix of cheap vodka, nervous sweat, and used dryer sheets.
She looks at me and said, “I am terrified of flying,” and reaches in the pouch on the back of the seat in front of her and after a minute of rummaging through it she pulls out an air sick bag.
She smiles and now I’m horrified.
“I’m glad I have this,” she cackles holding up the bag. “I just had three tacos. Not feeling my best,” she says as she releases a loud belch.
The plane is only half full—evidently not many people travel to South Dakota. I excuse myself and awkwardly make my way into the aisle. I see what looks like a pair of empty seats at the tail end of the plane. As I begin to sit down I’m shocked to see one seat is taken by a midget.
I say “Excuse me,” attempting to disguise my surprise as I turn to look for another seat, but the wee man says, “Do you have something against little people?”
“No, I was just wanting to find a window seat without any seated beside me,” I nervously responded.
“You’re a poor excuse for a human being,” was barely audible as I made my way back to my original seat.
During take-off the horse-faced woman turned, leaning over my lap, and retched.