The Wild West

As mentioned yesterday and countless times before, subtly is not my strong suit. (Which must be why I can never seem to spell it correctly on first try. Hrmphf!)

So Mr. Darcy and I took a trip on an airplane recently. We had a connector flight from Seattle to Portland that then took us from Portland onto our destination. The plane was small and fit 4 across the width of the plane meaning passengers sat two by two with an aisle running down the middle. Despite the nagging fear that such a small plane would lead us to our death, it was nice to not have a middle seat to have to occupy or make our lovefest into a menage a trios with a 3rd seatmate.

Not too long after take off they handed out boxes of treats. Not just bags of nuts but a box with a bag of nuts AND other treats with a contest to name a new video device. Inside was a very tiny York peppermint patty. After we’d all been served our drinks and were nibbling down on the nuts (heh), I looked over to the rows to the left of us. I spied two things.

First, a large guy who was delicately savoring his miniature York Peppermint Patty like the plane was going down and this was his last chance at ingesting sugary sweetness. His big claw of a hand would bring the treat up to his mouth and he’d take little tiny bite after bite. Later Mr. Darcy would attempt to reenact this sight.

See?

Mr. Darcy Demonstrates

Second, as Mr. Darcy and I were chatting and enjoying our nut packs (heh) I happened to look beyond his handsome face and see a man bringing his disposable water bottle up to his mouth. But instead of drinking from the bottle he was, in fact, spitting into it. A brown liquid was shooting from his mouth. I looked on in horror trying to discern what the hell I was seeing. Was the man sick? No. How could he so skillfully direct his vomit into a water bottle? Plus, there are sick bags for such an occassion. Was the man not pleased with his nuts? (heh) Did he dislike them so much he had to spit them out? Not once but repeatedly?

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST STOP EATING THE NUTS THEN!

I jabbed Mr. Darcy in the side and whispered in his ear, “THAT MAN IS SPITTING!” You know how planes are,  you often have to raise your voice over the engine noise. Okay so maybe it was more of a stage whisper. Whatever. Mr. Darcy glanced quickly over but the man was just holding the bottle nonchalantly. Damn it! Every time I’d see him do it, I would smack Mr. Darcy in the arm and tell him to look. CAN I GET A WITNESS? Sheesh. It got to the point where I became so obsessed with The Spitter that I just outright pointed at him. And still, Mr. Darcy never fully saw the man in the act. I think on purpose because of his sheer mortification of my un-subtleness.

My boyfriend has impeccable manners.

I don’t think the guy ever saw me pointing but even if he did I don’t care. The dude was spitting into a water bottle on a plane. Spitting tobacco. Who chews tobacco anymore? That’s got to be one of the most vile habits ever. It’s bad enough kissing a person who smokes (I might as well french kiss an ashtray) but to make out with a person who chews?

I think I just gagged. Gross out.

Luckily, Mr. Darcy’s vice is sweets so he often tastes like candy. Making out with candy is alright in my book.

Maybe tomorrow I will tell you where we traveled to. It was a lot of fun. It involved the beach, good friends, sunshine and Corey Haim.

Laughter is the best medicine.

Ok, not really Corey Haim. But he did come up in conversation a couple times.

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17 thoughts on “The Wild West

  1. So some friends were staying with us. After they left I went to rearrange the guest room so it could return to is more likely use as my husband’s office/computer dumping grounds.

    I found a bottle of the brown stuff, left on my camera cabinet.

    I gagged.

    Then I took a photo with my phone and sent it to the offender with our thanks for the memento.

    Just plain nasty.

  2. Mr. Darcy looks like a sweet wee chipmunk, nibbling away at his treat! I love it!

    You two are presh.

    I can relate to the unsubtle. In 6th grade, Gus Treudson used to say to me (holding up one hand in a ‘c’ like he was holding a giant hamburger) “Your mouth is THIS big closed.”

  3. I grew up in Arcata – AKA Humboldt. It’s a mixture of hippies and cowboys, and those cowboys chew. A friend of mine married one a few years ago (and as the maid of honor, even though I’m supposed to be supportive on her special day, I had no problem telling her that it wasn’t too late to back out), and the entire crew of groomsmen were not only guys that I went to high school with, but they were all bald, goateed, tobacco chewers. It was disgusting. My best friend lives in Albuquerque and she also married a chewer. He’s much more subtle about his habit (you’d never see him spitting in a bottle on a plane, or when anyone is around), but it’s still gross. He’s tried to quit and can’t.

    There were plenty of stories of these guys mistaking their chew cup for their soda cup… aaaaack!!

  4. Guys used to dip when I was in college. I did go to school in Tobacco Road, after all. I couldn’t agree with you more – it really is a vile and disgusting habit that somehow ranks lower than cancer sticks.

  5. that last photo of y’all is by far the cutest thing I’ve seen all day. yay for happy!

    Spitting is just plain nasty. Bleah.

  6. That last picture just makes my heart happy. And spitting on a plane is super gnarly. In fact, I’m pretty sure it isn’t allowed at all, which was probably why he was trying to be all 007 about it.

  7. Ok so I’m going to be the lone wolf here.

    My man chews. And while I don’t “love” it, because it is something I’ve come to associate with him, there is a certain reaction I have to the taste of tobacco. Maybe it’s the ex smoker in me and I’m jonesing for my niccotine. Or maybe his lips are just as addictive and I don’t care about his beautiful lip sticking out a little.

    I have no explanation other than he moves me and no tobacco can change that. Plus he’s pretty good about discreetly doing what he needs to do.

    Call me weird. Because, well, I AM.

  8. I am totally gagging at the thought because it brings back memories of one class I took in college. There were two guys who sat in front of me that did that and I felt pukey the entire class. Gross!

    Luckily you put the adorable pictures in to take my mind off of the thoughts. I seriously have a queasy tummy now that I read (and pictured) this.

  9. Oh honey . . . DO NOT come to Oklahoma. You can’t spit without hitting a spitter. (Cute, huh?)

    They’re in restaurants, on sidewalks, EVERYwhere.

    And you know the WORST THING EVER? My teenage son has become a spitter. He doesn’t chew. He just spits. I scream at him everytime I see it, and still he spits. I think I’m going to hock a big loogey on his bed to teach him a lesson.

  10. I wish I could eat that slow.

    My friend told me she saw three guys sharing a tobacco spit cup on the train ride to work yesterday. YUCK!

  11. Chewing is disgusting. Let’s rule out any habit that requires regular spitting in public as socially acceptable.

    Those two pictures are so, so fun. They just make me smile :)

  12. OMG, I love that photo.

    P.S. Tobacco chewing is still fairly common in the South. It’s not one of my region’s finer qualities. Really, my region doesn’t have too many fine qualities other than our adorable accents.

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