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