Mr. Dump has bad luck when he flies. Not when he flies with me, but typically when he flies on business. One time, the guy sitting next to him had a heart attack and died mid-flight. That was probably the worst of the bad experiences. He was so freaked out by the dead guy that he went into the airplane bathroom and passed out, wrenching his bad knee, making a bad situation even worse (for Mr. Dump anyway).
Yesterday he had a cross-country flight and dropped a can of Dr. Pepper on himself, so he had to sit for 2.5 hours waiting for jeans to dry. I’m guessing it was fairly unpleasant. But worse, he got stuck sitting next to a woman who talked to herself. A lot. That’s a long time to be stuck next to someone who more than likely has some psychological problems. Ms. Chatty also didn’t do well during the approach to the airport, which was fairly turbulent. She asked Mr. Dump for his airsickness bag because there wasn’t one in her seat pocket.
Mr. Dump doesn’t do well around people who are throwing up.
Ms. Chatty announced to her invisible friends, “Last time I did this I used 2 bags.” I can only imagine the look of horror on his face as she said it, while trying to ignore the fact that she was throwing up next to him. This sentence was followed by “When it go to this point I had to switch.”
You cannot imagine how hard I was laughing when he told me this story. Luckily she only needed the one bag and Mr. Dump didn’t join her. But God, can you even imagine?
Poor Mr. Dump. That’s seriously yucky. Sorry he had fruit-loop lady next to him. He could have had some fun with her, though. When she started talking, he could have answered and REALLY messed with her world.
When we went to Italy a few years back, a guy had a heart attack when we were over the Atlantic. They said over the speakers in Italian, “Is there a doctor in the house?” Hubby speaks fluently and raised an eyebrow. They were able to stablize him until we got to Milan.
Another time, I was taking a Greyhound bus from Boston to Syracuse (that was my first mistake) when this dude started talking to me. He seemed pleasant enough, and I chatted back with him. Then I started to realize he was…not all there. So I tried not answering him. Then I tried turning away. He just kept talking. Finally, I had to pretend I was asleep. It took him 20 minutes to figger it out.
Ahh, travel.
Wow, he speaks fluent Italian? That’s pretty damned cool. Okay, we’ll need to plan the Big DumpTruck 2008 Macaroni Tour of Italy and he can be the tour guide for the group.
The guy who died was coming home from vacation with his wife, and Mr. Dump was the 3rd person in the row and they had been chatting. The guy had been complaining that he didn’t feel good. His poor wife.
I haven’t had any really *bad* experiences. I prefer to read or watch a movie and I dislike when people try to start a conversation. My mom, who travelled with us to Florida in 2004, tries to talk to everyone in a 3 row radius.
Well, he is shy and likes to say he is “proficient.” But I’ve never seen him at a loss for words. Hell, he’s been going to Italy since he was 4. And he minored in Italian in college.
When his grandma died, his family inherited her apartment, which they spent some time and effort renovating. So we always have a place to stay when we go over there. This conversation is making me want to go. So beautiful over there, and SUCH GOOD FOOD.
OMG. That is disgusting. If someone started puking next to me I would die.
I’m thinking that the “backhand snap punch” I learned in tae kwon do is the appropriate tool for silencing someone like that.