Just Plane Nuts

For a long time, it seemed like buses had the market cornered on crazy. Who hasn't had a late night crazy person experience involving to a bus or related building? Or heard a story of someone else's? Or seen one on television? Or imagined one? You see my point, I'm sure. Buses were the designated 'crazy' transportation mode of choice: hobos have trains, scary men in yellow rain jackets with hook hands have fishing boats, and crazies have buses. I see those Greyhound commercials with the clean people riding the buses, smiling, excited to be using such glamorous transportation.

Right. I've 'gone Greyhound.' Where, pray tell, are the unwashed masses? The crying Amlids? The goopy smear on the window you want to wipe off but don't want to come in even indirect contact with your skin? Not in the commercials, that’s for sure. The commercial just features that humanoid with the head of a greyhound, which I'm guessing is the male of whatever species Paris Hilton is. Let's look into some sterilization options before they find each other, mate and fill the earth with litter upon litter of dog-faced Cheeto-colored skeleton monsters. But I digress. I can't speak for the hobos or the raincoat men, but the crazies are branching out to the nation's airports.

I sat next to who I think was a genuinely crazy person on a plane from Roanoke to Detroit. It’s not often I get to sit so close to un-medicated psychos these days. He was that special brand of crazy that holds animated conversations with windows, and as a bonus, he seemed to have a grudge against the pilot. After every altitude adjustment announcement he would laugh derisively and snort, "Yeah, right." At first, he made me think he new something I didn't, which made me nervous, until I realized that he was just insane, which made me MORE nervous.

I managed to ignore his shifty mannerisms and avoid direct eye contact until the beverage service. Flying coach is the norm for me, except for that one time I got bumped up to first class which was both random and awesome. But back with the peons in coach, you have to pay for your alcoholic beverages- $5 gets you one tiny bottle of your choice. I had always thought you'd have to be crazy to pay that much. As it turns out, I was right: Nutjob McTwitchypants was all over that deal like crazy on, well, him. The stewardess was more than happy to comply with Nutjob's request because really, when you've got a crazy person in an enclosed area, the situation can only be improved with the addition of alcohol. She hurried off to get his change as he began mixing whatever crazy cocktail they're drinking in the loony bin these days. (Drink Skye Vodka! 9 out of 10 of the voices in your head agree, and the tenth might ease up on the maniacal ranting after a drink or two!)

I turned up my music and checked my watch. Soon, the stewardess returned. She was very sorry, but they didn't have enough change for him. Would he like to buy another drink instead? Of course he would! What's another $5 bottle of vodka between schizophrenic splinter personalities? With my music turned up, I could barely hear his arguments with the double paned oval window. I was waiting for him to shout "This conversation is over!" and then slam the molded plastic window shade. Everyone knows windows can't sass back when their shades are shut.

He probably would have gotten in trouble if he had done that. Why do they always insist on the windows being open during takeoff and landing? Not that I’d never shut the window if I had a window seat, even if I wasn't actively using it. Only jerks with no concept of other people's window-love who always end up sitting next to me do that. Jerks. But they rabidly insist that the shades be open, and I can't figure out why. We used to have a conversion van that had shades on the windows, and we would always have to leave them up so my dad wouldn't take someone out when he had to merge. I can't see that being a very relevant issue on an airplane. First off, don't they have air traffic controllers to manage where the other planes are? And short of having a spine that responds to the verbal command of "Go-go gadget neck!", there's no way those windows are gonna do anything for your visibility.

They're only more insistent about the uprightness of seat backs and tray tables. In that polite yet stern stewardess voice that you must not defy. Which is why I was so shocked when I encountered Those Who Would Not Obey on flight 74CRAZY. Before takeoff, I was stowing my carry-ons like a good little passenger. I sat and watched the dramatic reading of the airline safety guidelines, accompanied by the seat belt and oxygen mask interpretive dance. I really only watch because no one else does and I feel sorry for them, performing for a bunch of safety hating philistines. I care, I say silently with my eye contact. Help me to be safe and give me extra peanuts for my cooperation. Hasn't happened yet, but I remain hopeful.

When the safety skit was over, I glanced (in my quest to avoid eye contact with Nutjob) at the people across the aisle- only to find them openly flouting all the rules I hold dear! CD players, no doubt blasting something rebellious, out on top of tray tables! The stewardesses were making their way down the aisle; surely a highly anticipated aero-beat down was not long in coming. Imagine my disappointment when nothing happened! They leisurely put up their trays and continued their illegal music listening, totally missing the announcement about how wrong they were. Wow. When I’m climbing to 37,000 feet above solid ground, I'm pretty likely to follow any directives given to me, on the off chance that my tray table is connected to the turbines or something. Their rebellion did inspire me on the next flight, however. Let's just say curly hair and small earphones can hide a multitude of indiscretions, and also if my music was transmitted over the pilot’s airwaves, I didn’t hear any complaining.

I suppose one crazy flight out of four isn’t too bad. The crazy migration isn’t complete; your odds are still much greater on a bus. Unless of course, you are the crazy person. If that’s the case, I don’t know what to tell you. Except to not sit next to me.