traveling dilbury

I love to travel

Which is good ‘cause I do it a lot

A. LOT.

I have a list of things I hate

Traveling is not on that list

But people standing too close behind me in line is

And battling it out with the fucktard sitting next to me for arm rest rights on the plane

ARE on both the list

And both of these happen when traveling

A. LOT.

You know when you’re lining up at the airport to check in?

Or lining up at security to be stripped down and molested?

Or lining up to pee at the AWESOME (caps for sarcasm) airport public toilets?

Which flush automatically, and not always when I’m ready for it so I should probably add that to my list then

‘Cause no girl likes to have spontaneous water wooshing up her woo hoo, right?

So yeah, you’re lining up for something-or-other and then dude behind you is now BE-HIND you. As in, you can totally smell his California roll sushi breath

And no, I’m not suggesting that it’s just people of Asian decent that are the sole invaders of personal space – but I’m pretty sure they invented it

The last offender to cling to my clacker was a few weeks ago when an octogenarian Nanna with a walker, complete with tennis balls on the bottom, crawled all up in my business at the check-in line at the airport

I spun around and yelled, “STEP BACK BITCH!”

OK, no I didn’t

‘Cause I felt bad – she was obviously in the advanced stages of emphysema

I could tell from her breath that smelt like a strip club ashtray & her labored breathing on the BACK OF MY NECK

So I said nothing

Self composure: 1 The Real me: 0

Once I’d finally gotten through security (after using all my antibacterial wipes to remove Grandma’s phlemmy scmooo off my neck)

I boarded my flight and got comfy in the window seat

‘Til THAT GUY plopped himself down next to me

You know THAT GUY, right?

He’s that huge bastard that you see walking down the aisle on the plane and you slowly start making deals with God as he heads your way

Like, I will totally let the children off first if this plane goes down

Or I will tell my brother it really was me that smashed his first car into our mailbox when I was 13

Just don’t sit that humungus chunk of fat fuckness in the seat next to me

And I believe God was giving the athiest in me the bird when he sent that big kahuna to 17B

I was in 17A

Fuck

(But at least now I didn’t have to ‘fess up to my bro’)

And didn’t me and Blocka spend the next 8 hours battling it out over the armrest?

I’m telling you, I had BRUISES!

Self composure: 1 The Real Me: 1

I fly out again in 2 weeks

I have started karate classes and Mandarin lessons to prepare myself for the war of traveling

Or maybe it’s Oregami classes and mandolin lessons I signed up for?

Throw down, or a hoe down

I’ll be ready for one of them