pet peeves.

Personal

I’m just gonna come out and say it: I hate middle seats. They’re awful. For many reasons, but, namely, you don’t really own an armrest. I’m a cordial flyer and use body language to indicate, why, yes…yes we can share this armrest. Because your arm needs a little resting too.

On my flight to Las Vegas yesterday, I sat in a middle seat. Even before I had the chance to get situated, the women on each side flung their arms not only on the armrests but into my personal seat space. It’s like they were playing Paper, Rock, Scissors ACROSS MY CHEST. The entire flight I sat with my arms pressed against my body and my hands clasped in my lap. Like I was in confession. Except it wasn’t church and I got to eat lightly salted peanuts.

As I sat in my confessional seat, I listed my pet peeves, starting with shared armrests. Which lead to people who drive 55MPH on the freeway. Which lead to dial-up internet connections. Which lead to paying for internet when staying at a hotel. Which lead to not getting a bottle of complimentary water. Which lead to taxi drivers who don’t accept credit card. Which lead to…
People who cut in line. Really? Are we still in third grade?!
Not wiping the top of the ketchup bottle before putting it back in the fridge.
Squeezing the toothpaste from the middle of the tube. That’s so 1991.
Stopping at Yield signs.
Not changing the channel during commercials.
Telemarketers.
Unorganized shampoo and conditioner bottles in a shower.
Food left overnight on a stove.
Using a cell phone during a meal. No, really, Twitter is not that important.
People who make lists of pet peeves.

I’ve decided that on my return flight back to Orange County, I’m going to check-in early and guarantee myself a window seat. You know, because I can’t wait to play Paper, Rock, Scissors with the girl in the aisle seat!