Back in the 1950s, airline travel was new, exciting and somewhat romantic. People dressed up in their finest clothes and smoking jackets to fly. Smoking was permitted on flights, and there was even a smoking section on the plane.
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By smoking section, that meant all the smoke originated from rows 12 through 20, but you could still be in row 1 and make smoked peanuts. Nowadays, airline travel is basically a junior high school with wings. Women wearing furry house slippers, grown men carrying their pillow and blanket, and crazy people carrying their cat in a bag.

I’m not proud of this next story, but sometimes in life you gotta be a little mean to defeat stupidity. Last week, there was a woman seated next to me clipping her fingernails. The clippings were literally hitting the window and falling into my lap. Disgusting? Yes. Her actions immediately said to me this person had no respect for others around her. She was traveling with a cat in a bag under the seat. The cat did nothing wrong. So, this is where the comedian going after the heckler side of me comes out.

I gathered up the clippings with a drink napkin and dropped them in her coffee. She immediately told the flight attendant what I had done and wanted me removed. Instantly, I could see the flight attendant was as disgusted with this lady’s personal hygiene routine as I was. I mentioned I was being assaulted with nail clippings hitting me and I’d like to press charges. I know the catchphrases too. To this woman’s surprise, the flight attendant asked for the nail clippers and said it was against policy to have a weapon on the plane. Inside, I was laughing. The attendant then asked me if I’d like to fill out proper paperwork for charges. I kindly replied, “No, not at this time. I don’t think that will be necessary.” “Not at this time” meant I still had the ability to later. All my years of watching Law and Order finally paid off.

In the awkward silence that now occurred, I came up with a plan to make my two-hour flight a learning moment for my new seatmate. I ordered a white Russian drink with no ice, heavy cream and double vodka. I never touched the drink. For the next ten minutes, using the arm closest to her, I would put my finger under my face mask and act as if I was digging for gold in my nose. Occasionally, I would pull my finger out to make a constant flicking motion with my finger toward the floor. In total disgust, she left her seat for the lavatory. I then put the drink where the cat could drink all it wanted.


In the end, I taught this woman a lesson in public respect and etiquette. And the cat? I bought him a drink because he had a long trip ahead with this woman.  end mark

To know more about Tim, visit Tim the Dairy Farmer.