The flight attendant is talking to you and you aren’t listening. In the event of an emergency are you really going to help open the door and get us all safely out?
You got all the way up here with no problem, and you’re exhausted and have to pee, which generally means the key card in your travel-germy hand is not going to work. You will insert it into the door every which way, first gingerly and gradually harder until finally you gently and with resignation rest your head on the door and let out a nice long F_______K.
I want to believe you that I can roll it into a ball, leave it overnight, and then shake it out in the morning and wear it to my board meeting. I want to believe you that it’s unique magical poly cotton rayon lycra goretex blend will be soft and comfy and not itchy on my 15 hour flight to Shanghai.
Between now and 3:30pm Dallas time, I can be me. Me without co-workers. Me without macaroni and cheese, ketchup and toast requests for lunch. Just me. I deserve what I want for this brief window between serving hot dogs and serving my company.