Last week, I was on a jet plane from PHX to Milwaukee (Algonquin for "the promise land," if movies are to be believed). RC and I flew Southwest airlines, because it's free or cheap thanks to RC's friend who works for the airline. Flying Southwest is an adventure in itself, due to the herd of cattle all clamoring and mooing as they try to get on the plane first to snap up those coveted aisle and window seats. I know there have been studies done by the airlines that found unassigned seating saves time in boarding, but really it just causes undue panic for most of the people waiting in line as they watch their chance of not being stuck in the middle dwindle. I, being "with child" or "knocked up" or "gestation-riffic," have been circumventing the system by boarding early with the families with small children. Hey, the Blueberry is small! Plus, I stick my stomach out, look miserable and uncomfortable, and RC holds my elbow to guide me to the ticket counter and down the jetway to ensure that no flight attendant would dare tell us we couldn't board early. We're no dummies.
So, after boarding early, sitting in the near back of the plane and all settled in for our three-plus-hour flight, a young guy sat in the middle seat directly behind me. I would not have paid him any attention, except that he struck up a conversation with the young guy next to him that I could not ignore. Awkward plane conversations are as intriguing to me as they are uncomfortable to listen to. This one was the worst. Not because they were making each other uncomfortable, but because they were making me uncomfortable due to their sheer idiocy. I wanted to turn around and beg them, plead with them, to shut up until they hit 28 or so for the sake of mankind. Because the senior in high school by the window and the guy in the middle who was a junior in college were making me rapidly lose my faith in the future of the world.
The dude, or DudeBro as I have nicknamed him, in the middle was giving the starry-eyed Wisconsin high school kid some advice on college. HS said he wants to go to the University of California at San Diego, and DudeBro agreed that was a good school. DudeBro looked at it himself, but didn't end up there (which I translate into: I like that college, but I didn't get in). DudeBro was also super stoked on UC Santa Barbara, so HS should check that out, too. In reality, both of those schools are awesome and really hard to get into, so DudeBro is not helping HS at all here. A kid from out of state is going to have a heck of a time getting in. But don't worry, DudeBro has other ideas for HS. DudeBro thinks that HS should check out the colleges in Arizona, because that's where DudeBro goes. He checked out ASU in Tempe and also a college in Tucson, but DudeBro informed HS that Tucson is like little Mexico. Way too many shady "foreigners." So, DudeBro decided to go to ASU. Arizona State University is the mecca for college kids who want to go to college while mostly just attempting to kill their livers. Party school. Completely. I'm sure there are quite a few students who go there and get a great education, but the majority of the student body is just trying to inebriate and invade the rest of the student body. So, DudeBro then tells HS, "I chose ASU because, dude, it's the top school according to Playboy. I mean, there are girls everywhere. It's siiiccckk. You should check it out." I'm not exaggerating. That is what he said, verbatim. I wanted to turn around and put noise-canceling headphones on HS, because his sweet Wisconsin demeanor was being threatened by thoughts of frat parties and girls and sunshine 365 days a year, and I know kids who grow up in the Midwest can't resist those things (mostly the sunshine part).
DudeBro kept talking. And everything he said involved the words "sick" and "stoked" and "totally" and "DUUUUUDDEE," and the complete confidence in which he said these things sent a shiver down my spine. He was a wise, all-knowing "frat and drunk chick" guru. I am still worried about the impact that this all had on little HS there in the window of 29A.
This was all within the first 15 minutes of the flight. I have never wished harder for the flight attendant to announce that portable electronic devices were acceptable for use. Please, let me turn on some music and drown out all the "gnarly" and "awesome" being uttered behind me. I kept looking at RC and I'm almost positive that the sound of our eyes rolling in our heads was audible, but yet still not enough to drown out all the, "Dude, we had a party and this sorority showed up and then we did keg stands and these two chicks made out.....garble garble garble." Of course, we hit turbulence, so no music, no movie, no escape. "Dude, college is soooooo much easier than high school. Like, don't even sweat it. You're doing way more work now than you will when you get to college." Oh, please Lord, I've been a good girl. Help me here. "I just do most of my work on the internet. It's simple. It's almost a joke how much work I don't have to do and I'm still getting kickass grades." I mean, okay God, I know I got pregnant out of wedlock, but really, in the grand scheme of life, do I deserve this punishment? My underwear is threatening to climb into my colon as I sit here. Isn't that enough? "It's always hot there and so girls on campus barely get dressed. It's like going to class at a bar the way the girls look." What sedatives are pregnancy approved, and who on this plane has some? "I had one class last semester that I barely showed up for and still aced it. My parents were so stoked on my grades and I just laughed cause I was drunk most of the time." Is the pressure in my head from the turbulence or is my brain exploding? If it's exploding, could I just maybe hear a constant tone or just pass out? Please?
Was I like this at 20 years old? Did my conversations make those around me convulse with the utter vapidness that passed my lips? I shutter, knowing that I probably was and probably did. But you know what? At least I didn't choose my college according to the sage words of a nudie mag...dude.
So, after boarding early, sitting in the near back of the plane and all settled in for our three-plus-hour flight, a young guy sat in the middle seat directly behind me. I would not have paid him any attention, except that he struck up a conversation with the young guy next to him that I could not ignore. Awkward plane conversations are as intriguing to me as they are uncomfortable to listen to. This one was the worst. Not because they were making each other uncomfortable, but because they were making me uncomfortable due to their sheer idiocy. I wanted to turn around and beg them, plead with them, to shut up until they hit 28 or so for the sake of mankind. Because the senior in high school by the window and the guy in the middle who was a junior in college were making me rapidly lose my faith in the future of the world.
The dude, or DudeBro as I have nicknamed him, in the middle was giving the starry-eyed Wisconsin high school kid some advice on college. HS said he wants to go to the University of California at San Diego, and DudeBro agreed that was a good school. DudeBro looked at it himself, but didn't end up there (which I translate into: I like that college, but I didn't get in). DudeBro was also super stoked on UC Santa Barbara, so HS should check that out, too. In reality, both of those schools are awesome and really hard to get into, so DudeBro is not helping HS at all here. A kid from out of state is going to have a heck of a time getting in. But don't worry, DudeBro has other ideas for HS. DudeBro thinks that HS should check out the colleges in Arizona, because that's where DudeBro goes. He checked out ASU in Tempe and also a college in Tucson, but DudeBro informed HS that Tucson is like little Mexico. Way too many shady "foreigners." So, DudeBro decided to go to ASU. Arizona State University is the mecca for college kids who want to go to college while mostly just attempting to kill their livers. Party school. Completely. I'm sure there are quite a few students who go there and get a great education, but the majority of the student body is just trying to inebriate and invade the rest of the student body. So, DudeBro then tells HS, "I chose ASU because, dude, it's the top school according to Playboy. I mean, there are girls everywhere. It's siiiccckk. You should check it out." I'm not exaggerating. That is what he said, verbatim. I wanted to turn around and put noise-canceling headphones on HS, because his sweet Wisconsin demeanor was being threatened by thoughts of frat parties and girls and sunshine 365 days a year, and I know kids who grow up in the Midwest can't resist those things (mostly the sunshine part).
DudeBro kept talking. And everything he said involved the words "sick" and "stoked" and "totally" and "DUUUUUDDEE," and the complete confidence in which he said these things sent a shiver down my spine. He was a wise, all-knowing "frat and drunk chick" guru. I am still worried about the impact that this all had on little HS there in the window of 29A.
This was all within the first 15 minutes of the flight. I have never wished harder for the flight attendant to announce that portable electronic devices were acceptable for use. Please, let me turn on some music and drown out all the "gnarly" and "awesome" being uttered behind me. I kept looking at RC and I'm almost positive that the sound of our eyes rolling in our heads was audible, but yet still not enough to drown out all the, "Dude, we had a party and this sorority showed up and then we did keg stands and these two chicks made out.....garble garble garble." Of course, we hit turbulence, so no music, no movie, no escape. "Dude, college is soooooo much easier than high school. Like, don't even sweat it. You're doing way more work now than you will when you get to college." Oh, please Lord, I've been a good girl. Help me here. "I just do most of my work on the internet. It's simple. It's almost a joke how much work I don't have to do and I'm still getting kickass grades." I mean, okay God, I know I got pregnant out of wedlock, but really, in the grand scheme of life, do I deserve this punishment? My underwear is threatening to climb into my colon as I sit here. Isn't that enough? "It's always hot there and so girls on campus barely get dressed. It's like going to class at a bar the way the girls look." What sedatives are pregnancy approved, and who on this plane has some? "I had one class last semester that I barely showed up for and still aced it. My parents were so stoked on my grades and I just laughed cause I was drunk most of the time." Is the pressure in my head from the turbulence or is my brain exploding? If it's exploding, could I just maybe hear a constant tone or just pass out? Please?
Was I like this at 20 years old? Did my conversations make those around me convulse with the utter vapidness that passed my lips? I shutter, knowing that I probably was and probably did. But you know what? At least I didn't choose my college according to the sage words of a nudie mag...dude.
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