The guy who talks loudly on his cell phone about very important business matters so everyone around him knows he is a very important business man. He is always wearing a suit that remains remarkably unwrinkled. Sometimes he sports a headset or ear piece.
The guy who opens his laptop the moment he sits on the plane because he has very important work to do and he is going to maximize his efficiency or something like that.
The guy who makes a big show of taking out and putting on his very very very expensive headphones that dwarf his head but the sound man, it’s pristine.
The guy who is a father and is macho and is carrying a car seat, stroller, diaper bag, two carry-on suitcases and a briefcase and refuses help from anyone because he is a man and he’s got this even though he is huffing and puffing and on the verge of passing out.
The guy who is a father and cannot be bothered to help his wife with the children for the duration of a cross country flight. He stares at his iPad with singular focus and dedication while his wife wrangles two crying children and gives the man she allowed into her life the stare of death.
The guy who is in Zone 3 but stands at the front of the boarding line regardless, frothing with eagerness to board the plane even though it will not be his turn to board for another twenty minutes.
The guys in first class who know, smugly, that they will get to board first and hover around the boarding lanes with their hands in their pockets as they talk about important business man things and sneer politely at anyone who approaches their territory and doesn’t appear to belong.
The guy who sits next to you and explains air travel for the duration of a flight.
The guy who tries to flirt with the flight attendants and is clearly striking out but doesn’t realize it even though everyone else around him does.
The guy who drinks so much the booze begins seeping out of his pores and you’re sitting next to him and you have to smell his booze sweat stink for several hours because there is no God on airplanes.
The guy who sprawls because he has very large testicles between his legs and beneath his armpits forcing him to use both armrests.
The guy who reclines as far as he can the moment the plane hits 10,000 feet, thereby jamming your knees into your spleen for the duration. He often has a bald spot, which is an observation not a judgment.
The guy who is training to become a professional interrogator, getting all up in your personal business, and so you teach what, where and why and how did you get into that and are you married and why not and tick tock.
The guy who has no interest in you or your life but spends the entire flight narrating the detritus of his own existence.
The guy who hovers near the mouth of the luggage carousel as if he is going to dive through the rubber curtain to start grabbing luggage even though the carousel isn’t even moving because the luggage has not yet been offloaded from the plane.
The guys who eagerly jump to their feet when a gorgeous woman gives her carry on a fleeting glance as she pauses in the aisle, preparing to place it in the overhead bin. Oh how their muscles flex as they preen and jockey for a piece of that small suitcase so they might be able to say they helped, so they might bask in the glow of her grateful smile, so they might swan with her into the sunset of a happily ever after.
Tags: airports, men, ridiculousness, travel, why
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Also, the man who steps in front of the women in the first class queue, because how can woman be first class? (I’ve flown first class maybe six times and this has happened to me on at least three occasions.)
Playing Count The Bald White Dudes in First is my standard shuffling-toward-coach pastime.
I really like wearing track pants and a hoodie (which makes me look about 17) when I fly first class and then enjoying the weird looks I get when I bypass business people to board the plane.
I am so happy you exist.
I have a friend who was flying back from a week-long backpacking trip in Utah and found herself upgraded to first class. She said it was awesome – all those businessmen and her, a tiny woman in her 20s in camping clothing who hadn’t showered in a week.
“The guy who makes a big show of taking out and putting on his very very very expensive headphones that dwarf his head but the sound man, it’s pristine.” I see you have met my boyfriend!
(Love hime dearly! He just really, really loves his Bose headphones.)
My husband is a combination of this and the guy who is a father and cannot be bothered to help his wife with the children for the duration of a cross country flight. The headphones really help with that.
You should get some headphones of your own!
I wear mine so I do not kill people in a futile effort to Stop the Noises.
The nice old man who tells you about the 55 plus community he lives in. After your flight you mention his name to your mother, thinking that they might be in some of the same clubs. She huffs that he’s from the neighboring community to hers ( they share a fence, and there was drama), and her 55 pluser is clearly superior. CLEARLY
I would watch this movie. 55 plus gated-community drama is an underserved genre.
It would be jam packed with passive-aggressive drama. The fence! The 27 year old wild child using the community pool (you have to be 30)! Swingers with their blue shirts everywhere, allegedly!
Yes. I want to say more, but just…yes. Yes to all of this.
Those armpit testicles must be really uncomfortable because they ALWAYS spread out like that, the poor dears. #prayformen
And it doesn’t matter either whether they’re 6’6 and 275 or 5’2 and 130, those babies are always huge.
Huge, and delicate, and desperate, hence why they crowd so eagerly into your space, because those giant babies will die if they don’t get air and attention.
Especially when they take your window seat and you just KNOW they’ll have a shitfit if you say a word, and it’s a short flight, and for the love of all things sparkly just let me nap.
Ugh, guy number one was on my train Friday – he called his Mom and Dad on separate phone calls while both speaking loudly and facing the window so that his voice echoed throughout the whole car and said things like “AND AS YOU KNOW, NOW THAT I WORK FOR THE RED SOX, I GET OUT EARLY ON FRIDAYS, HAR HAR HAR” as if he were in the pilot of a television show.
We get it dude, you work for the Red Sox. Nobody cares. If you were important, they probably wouldn’t have let you out early on Friday.
I imagined that being said by JFK from Clone High and it made it ever-so-slightly more bearable.
Ha-haaaa! NOTHING BAD EVER HAPPENS TO THE KENNEDYS!
This guy: The guy who is in Zone 3 but stands at the front of the boarding line regardless, frothing with eagerness to board the plane even though it will not be his turn to board for another twenty minutes.
and this guy: The guy who hovers near the mouth of the luggage carousel as if he is going to dive through the rubber curtain to start grabbing luggage even though the carousel isn’t even moving because the luggage has not yet been offloaded from the plane.
make me irrationally angry. The plane is not going to leave any faster, and the luggage is not going to be offloaded any quicker, just because you’re acting impatient.
everyone needs to back on off the luggage carousel. it doesn’t move so fast that you can’t cover 4 feet to get your bag and you are IN THE WAY.
The luggage carousel thing is one of my top 5 travel pet peeves. This is not the Hunger Games, you do NOT need to shove 5 people out of the way to get your bag first!
This problem extends even to the humble MegaBus. Dude, that’s MY suitcase sitting there, the driver can’t dig any more suitcases out of the cargo hold until the ones she’s already unloaded are claimed and lugged out of the way, so MOVE and let me do that!
Fun for bigger people: Some asshole is in the way, even though getting out of the way would serve his interests. He could step back and let others get the luggage that stands in the way of his. But no. He’s gotta hover and impede with his me-first attitude. I love just shoving in next to him, then shoving him aside with my big body. I block him while making eye contact with others, looking for who belongs with the closest luggage. I am ostensibly, no, make that *ostentatiously* clearing a path between polite people and their luggage. Bozo has to wait behind me. If he makes the mistake of speaking to me, I turn my head, oh so slowly, and give him my best teacher/mom face that says “You are such a disappointment” and “I dare you to lay a hand on me”. Love watching him fume. And it’s always “him”, never a woman. Using white middle-aged woman privilege for good. Hell, who am I kidding? I’m using my privilege for fun!
one of the great joys of having hips is being able to use them to hip-check people who have no situational awareness
And people with multiple giant bags need to stop getting their first one, then standing right next to the carousel fussing with their bag while they wait for the others to show up. You’re taking up 3 people worth of space! Your bag does not need an unimpeded view of the other bags, and its presence is not going to coax your other bags out of hiding any faster!
Ditto for family groups meeting up at the baggage claim. Designate one baggage retriever, the rest of you back up 10 feet and continue your reunion.
frothing with eagerness to board
Seriously, these guys. What do they think they’re winning? Congratulations, you get to sit on the plane for 10 more minutes than I do. Have fun, dude.
I seem to frequently encounter the man who wants everyone – gate personnel, flight attendants, passengers, pilots, air traffic control – to know that he is Very Tall, as though they can somehow wrangle up another foot of space for his legs.
May also be know as the Very Tall man who sits behind you in the plane and is just so Very Tall that he must bang his Very Tall knees against your backrest every 5 minutes for the duration of the flight.
I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m so Very Tall. I can’t help it. I wish I could prevent my Very Long legs from disturbing you, but I did not choose to be Very Tall. Now, if I could get an extra foot of space for my Very Long legs…
I don’t suppose that emergency exit row is available?
Also, you will not be reclining on this flight. Sorry. Very Tall.
Oh but y’all, I need to pipe up as the wife of the man who is in fact Very Tall:
— there is also the person in front of the Very Tall man who tries to recline even though literally every possible milli-inch is being taken up by his femur, slamming the seattray into his knees every five minutes “SURELY– THIS SEAT — IS JUST — BROKEN!”
My heart weeps for his very long femurs and really truly, the exit row is a *survival strategy*
(now me, the short companion of the Very Tall man in the exit row, I am worthy of your scorn but have surrendered my seat to another Very Tall Man for Very Long flights.)
yes, I am also wife of the Very Tall man, who really needs that exit row. He doesn’t always ask, in case there’s no room, but he’s had groundstaff look him up and down and say “We’re gonna find some more space for you, sugar.” I have been sorry for years that I was not there to see that conversation.
Yeah I spent an 11 hour flight on Thursday night sandwiched between that guy and reclining-seat guy. The only possible solution was self-medicating with a steady supply of Bloody Marys.
this makes me want to pop up and be like, “oh good heavens, sir! sir! you are tall! thank goodness you said something! you see, you have to let us know a minimum of seven times. it’s only upon the eighth occurrence that we actually acknowledge your superior height. we didn’t know if you were really serious about being tall, you see, until you had repeated it that specific number of times. congratulations! you magically get three seats to yourself in the secret row that we have reserved for worthy tall people!”
I am the shortest person (at 5’9″) in a family of giants. I get the middle seat because I am so tiny and delicate compared to the 6’5″ men in my family. And it is all in our legs. We look normal sitting down. It really can be painful to be so cramped. Having the aisle seat makes flying bearable for my father.
My friend Bud is super tall, but has the consideration & foresight to ALWAYS plan ahead & reserve one of the seats with the emergency exit, because they always have extra room. He’s a mensch.
But more than once I’ve had some glandular case next to me taking up more than his fair share of space. My approach is, “look, buddy, my thigh is going to be pressed right up against yours for the whole flight, and if that’s ‘gay’ it’s your problem”
The guy who loudly sighs and rolls his eyes each time you ask him to stand up so you can go to the bathroom. Look dude, we are all in coach together and I would stand up for you. Hallway seat is both a privilege and a burden and if you will act like that sir, then you don’t deserve it.
I feel the same about Window Seat Person. Close your window if it is so sunny that it is burning retinas around you. Have you never seen the Grand Canyon? I’m sorry for you, but it’s not as grand from up here while my soul dries out.
Noooooo I hate when Window Seat Person closes the blind! Don’t want to look out your window? Then give me the window seat so I can spend the entire flight with my face pressed up against it, looking at the scenery.
I’m with you, most cases! But when it is the early AM in a southern summer, it just feels plain mean to blind everyone else. I am a window seat person and if someone’s trying to sleep next to me, I’ll shut the shade down to the tiniest strip.
Loud enough for many others to hear: “I appreciate your being so gracious about this.”
A couple of years ago I encountered a Very Tall And Large hallway seat occupying guy on an overnight flight who turned to me after dinner and said “I’m going to take a sleeping pill now and will be dead to the world for the next 6 hours so just climb over me if you need the bathroom.” That was sort of awkward. But I guess at least he warned me so I didn’t have to feebly tap him on the shoulder going “ummm excuse me” to no avail.
Ugh this guy. I got to be someone’s Plus One to a safari trip in South Africa a few years ago. 18 hour flight from Atlanta Georgia to Johannesburg SA. I emerged from the plane shriveled like a raisin, at the tender age of 24, because I felt so bad after the first time I had to ask my 2 male aisle mates to move.
😀 Love this post, though many are not exclusive to guys or even adults…
Also: seat reclining. _everyone_ does it (don’t lie. I can feel you getting ready to type the lie that you never recline your seat.), and no one thinks they’re to blame. Not that it’s exactly hard science, but the fact is that this is a super common case of something people only think is bad when they’re the one being inconvenienced. http://www.geekwire.com/2013/expedia-study-reveal…
not a lie: i never recline my seat. am i wasting my time feeling guilty about how i’ll squash whoever is behind me? should i just do it while laughing maniacally?
I never do either. I mostly take short, daytime flights and it annoys me to no end when someone immediately reclines on a 1 hour flight at 2pm. I know you’re not taking a nap, stop messing with me!
yeah, that’s ridiculous. that’s like when i take a short flight in the middle of the day and i see someone in like, pajamas with a slanket. give me a break.
i don’t fly a ton, but this past spring i took a red-eye and didn’t recline my seat. like, what’s the point? they don’t recline a ton, so it’s not like you get the comfort of laying down or anything. the person in front of me reclined theirs in the middle of the night while i had my head pillowed on my arms on the fold-down tray, and actually bruised the hell out of my arm. i wasn’t about to pay that forward to the person behind me.
Ditto on the daytime flight thing. And it’s not like the meager 2.5 degrees of recline they give you on regional jets is even noticeably more comfortable!
But yeah, definitely not something “everyone” does.
Yup, never recline my seat either. Being somewhat tall I feel too bad about doing it to others. But I can also manage to sleep sitting up ok on planes so there is that too.
Yeah, I never recline my seat either. And I generally only have long International flights, from West Coast US to Europe. I just…don’t feel like it makes any appreciable difference in my comfort levels? And I always try my best to get a window seat, so that I can just lean sideways against the window for sleeping — there’s no way I could just, like, recline back and sleep that way without leaning against anything. Honestly, I feel like leaning back is less comfortable than sitting all the way up, but I think I’m probably in the minority with that opinion. It does bother me a TON when the person in front of me suddenly reclines all the way when, like, the beverage cart is going around or something, though. You have to know I have my table down and a glass of liquid on it right now, right? Was that _really_ necessary, stranger-in-front-of-me?
I don’t either because my feet don’t touch the floor in airplanes as it is and that 1.5″ the seat goes back just means I dangle all the more.
I have to prop my feet on my bag (under the seat in front of me) so my legs don’t go numb. Which made me all the less willing to move my bag when the Very Testicletastic Man in the middle on the flight from London spread out his legs, then told me he needed me to move it so he could put his feet there.
I never recline, and it’s not a lie. It’s such a shitty thing to do to the person behind me, and the .000001 inch of reclining you get isn’t worth it.
I take almost entirely day flights, so I don’t recline. Actually, I seldom see people reclining their seats. Is this a Canadian thing where we’re too polite to recline our seats?
Not unless every balding dude in the seat in front of me who’s ever reclined (and they are legion) wasn’t Canadian, sadly.
I don’t recline unless there’s no one in the seat behind me and it’s a very early morning or a night flight.
Dear sir,
Thank you for raising this important question. I have re-checked the post and can confirm to you that every point listed herein is indeed exclusive to guys. I thank you again for bringing this point to our attention, and am heartened to confirm that there are no inaccuracies in this article.
Kind regards,
hurdyburdy
I definitely recline my seat [not a man] but I am also not inconvenienced when the person in front of me does it on a plane (buses are a different story).
I only recline on trans-Atlantic flights that are essentially red-eyes where everyone is sleeping. Otherwise, nut-up.
Preemptively accusing Toasties of lying is not right. Truly have never reclined my seat on a domestic flight. But I am a man who has probably smelled like booze to a fellow passenger so I’m guilty as sin.
I am both a man, and someone who never reclines. I hate it when it’s done to me, because I am kind of tall and it squishes my knees, so I choose not to visit the same minor anguish on the poor soul behind me. Don’t confuse what you do with what everyone does.
I tend not to recline just because it’s rarely any more comfortable that way.
What I don’t understand is why airline seats are so terrible to begin with. Why can’t they be more like movie theater seats? Why is that head cushiony thing there? It doesn’t make my head any more comfortable, all it does is stuff me into a C shape and make it impossible for me to fall asleep whether I recline or not. Is it because I’m short or weirdly shaped? HELP ME UNDERSTAND.
It’s ostensibly to keep your head from lolling side to side and winding up on your neighbor’s shoulder. But it only does that if your head is at exactly the right height. :/
Mostly, the seats suck in coach b/c airlines are cheap.
ARGH, this is exactly what happens to me too, and is the reason I always recline (slowly, checking behind me first), no matter how short the flight.
I once tied my head to the headrest with my scarf to relieve the forwards pressure that stupid cushion was putting on my neck.
I actually don’t recline my seat. It makes me feel too out of control in an already out of control situation.
I have been on many planes this year, and I have not reclined my seat on any of them. I do not find that it reclines enough to be worth the effort.
I recline, but that’s because I come from Perth, and any flight from here to anywhere (worth going) is a minimum of two thousand hours of flying.
Nothing helps, really, but sometimes reclining after spending 10 hours in that awfully upright sitting position feels like lying down in a bed of silk and feathers in a room the size of a football pitch. Almost.
I do not recline my seat, unless some sort of minor miracle has occurred and I for some reason have one of those self-contained first class seats. As a 6’4″ tall person with bad knees, I know how awful it is to have someone in front of me lean their seat back, so I just don’t do it.
The man who hits relentlessly on your seatmate up to leaning repeatedly into her space and attempts to hit on you. When you express polite disinterest and put in earbuds, he continues to poke you throughout the flight, offering unsolicited (and incorrect) advice on how to do your Sudoku and at one point handing you his beer and saying “Get me a cold one, this one’s warm”. You seriously consider choking him and hiding the body in the toilet; you’re pretty sure the flight attendants would help you with a smile.
OH, I met his socially maladept brother, who after I took my center seat leaned ACROSS ME to try to continue flirting with the young woman in the window seat; she was politely giving him single-word nonanswers but making the error of smiling when she did it. He craned over me to ask her, “So do you ever…” and that was the point when I looked him in the eye and said, “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS,” after which he began to practice both silence and as much evasion as he could given the half-inch of space permitted our mortal bodies on that plane.
*gasps in admiration*
QUEEN.
bows to you.
*leans across armrest* MARRY ME!
Speaking of armrests, I had a perfectly pleasant experience recently on a plane where I and the woman next to me wordlessly agreed to share the armrest (she took the rear portion, I took the front portion). When our elbows bumped slightly during some turbulence, we glanced over at each other briefly and smiled in sisterhood before returning to our respective books.
i feel like this is a “clouds part to show dazzling sun; the sounds of singing angels and tinkling chimes waft in on the perfumed breeze” moment. i’m so jealous.
Me too! My seat neighbor last week was a perfect temporary travel companion. We shared the armrest (though, as she was middle and I aisle, natural law dictates that she has first rights to the armrest) and we engaged in polite chitchat about our books at the start of our flight, and about our video games at the end. Otherwise, silence and stillness.
My seatmate from Sydney to Korea gave me a spare pair of earplugs, I gave her a spare Nyquil and we both pulled our lacy eye masks down and our tasteful cashmere wraps up and slept the whole way. If you’re reading this Hawaiian lady, you are my travelling soulmate and I wish for only good things for you.
The guy who is clearly headed home for whatever holiday/long weekend/excuse from school and has possibly not showered in the last week. Usually seen wearing all his school pride shirts/sweatpants/various regalia; may also be combined with The Spreader and The Headphones-Enthusiast.
I truly apologize for having been that guy (well, gal) in the past. I’m not happy about it and I know my neighbors weren’t either but showering just didn’t happen that often during midterms and finals.
To be honest, as long as they weren’t The Spreader variety, I never really minded the college kids, unless there was really a strong odor. Most of them just wanted to sleep or do their homework. I can totally respect that. The Spring Breakers, on the other hand…*shudder*
The guy who needs to use all the outlets in the airport at once. Especially the one you just happened to sit next to and you need to get out of his way, okay?
I am traveling alone by airplane later this week. Should I turn this into a bingo card or should I go on pretending I will encounter none of these unfortunate individuals?
I was going to suggest making it a drinking game, but I don’t want you to get alcohol poisoning.
Create a bingo card and share it with everyone! #bingo. Ooh, or a website/app that we can play while flying.
(Someone at work created bingo cards for meetings that had all the business-speak phrases and it was so much fun to play)
Oh, Bullshit Bingo! I have those for faculty meetings and student presentations. I’m working up the nerve to use the student one as the actual grade.
I am also traveling alone later this week. Bingo is tempting but I think I will instead practice avoidance with the lovely anti-anxiety meds my lovely doctor prescribed for me. Better for everyone this way, as even reading about these jerks is making the rage bubble.
Oh hey, I’m another alone traveler this week. I feel like we could possibly start a competition and then buy each other copious numbers of drinks at the end of our travels.
I’m traveling alone next week! I am actually Someone Who Travels Regularly for Business anymore & I still haven’t gotten used to it yet. but my general method for avoiding stress/assholes is to always be wearing headphones. this is especially effective if I’m listening to a podcast or something, but I will also leave them on (without any sounds coming through them) while reading/doing anything else; they’re like little flags proclaiming Not Available for Conversation.
a side-effect of this strategy is that I tune out most of the human wreckage around me, but my most recent awful traveler encounter was this dude who had a “Mr. President, I did build that” keychain…hanging from a liquor-company-branded backpack (which I’m guessing was a giveaway).
Bingo card, because you will encounter at least a few of them and you might as well get some entertainment value out of it.
Also: “The man who peers over your shoulder to see what you are reading on your Kindle/computer/phone/etc. and decides that’s a good launching point for conversation.”
No. I am reading. I am not interested in talking to you about it.
(And this seems to be exclusively chatty 40-years-and-some-change business men who fit quite neatly into some of these other categories.)
I’m doing work travel this week, maybe I’ll transpose these into a bingo card?
Not exactly airplane related, but airplane tangential: when I arrived yesterday and went to get my rental car, I was delayed about 20 minutes because the guy in front of me in line needed a bigger SUV. As in, none of the three or four SUVs the (angelic, unflappable) Hertz employee had given him keys to so far were “big enough.” The guy was maybe 6’2″, nothing extraordinary, and it’s not like they gave him a Mini. And he kept arguing with her that the SUVs she called standard were actually mid-sized or whatever, and refused a minivan, and made another worker go out and check that the satellite radio worked on every car he tried out.
Future Mr. Ada is 6’7″ and he drives a wee little Fit. He fits in it comfortably.
But also, Future Mr. Ada doesn’t have balls in his armpits, so maybe he doesn’t need to spread out like this Pile of NOPE you speak of.
My old VW Bug had amazing head room. Cannot remember which, but some famous 1970s NBA player drove one. He had removed the front seat, and drove comfortably from the back bench.
Old Bugs: bigger on the inside.
He actually thought he needed a bigger SUV for his height? My 6’6″ husband fits in a Mini. IN THE BACK SEAT.
Ok, so I have a question about this. I am of fairly regular height (5’9″). I have a long torso. Many cars, including my boyfriend’s Mazda 3, are too short for me when I wear my hair in a large bun. But then many cars, even the backseats, are just fine.
WHAT IS IT ABOUT?
Once I sat next to a manly man who ordered Irish Cream with his free drink coupon. I forget exactly what I said to him, but it was an admiring sort of “Hey dude, nice drink.” He just glanced at me, adjusted his headsphones, then took another sip. The ice clinked in his glass.
I went back to my book.
It was a beautiful flight.
The guys who eagerly jump to their feet when a gorgeous woman gives her carry on a fleeting glance as she pauses in the aisle, preparing to place it in the overhead bin.
I herein request that every gorgeous woman obtain a tiny wheelie carryon and fill it with concrete and stand all flutter-eyelash-y aside while Mr. Flex offers to lift it for her. Thanks!
Bonus points if the beautiful woman is also a hella strong amazing kickass weightlifting Amazon underneath her pretty dress and, having patiently waited until The Guy is on the verge of aneurysm through a combination of muscular strain and intense embarrassment, delicately takes the case back and tosses it carelessly into the locker with a demure and pitying smile.
Oh, I thought that was implied.
The only one I have encountered lately is the one that falls asleep on his tray table because he is apparently not into reclining his seat, and you wonder how he managed to stay in that position for a five hour flight without cramping horrifically.
AHH how can you do that without being a contortionist?? I’m only about 5’5″ and I can’t do this without contorting my neck.
I’m 5’2″ and I fit perfectly. It’s a truly excellent way to sleep and fiercely ignore your seatmates.
I’m 5’3″ and can’t do this at ALL but I am mostly torso so there’s still too much of me to fit.
I’m 5’7″ and I do this on every flight. So much more comfortable than dealing with the people around you. Especially true if you end up in the dreaded middle seat.
I’m 6’4″ and I’ve actually done this several times, because I don’t recline my seat, and, weirdly, for some reason it’s the only way I can sleep on some flights. I’m sure I’ll pay in back and neck pain in the long run.
As long as he’s not blocking the aisle, I say ‘you do you’.
When visiting my brother in North Carolina, I often fly into Myrtle Beach and drive to his place, because it’s often cheaper than flying direct to the tiny airport at Wilmington. So I encounter many of:
The dudes on their way to a weekend beach vacation, loudly ordering giant cans of Bud Light at 10:00 in the morning because they’re “ready to get started”. There is always a friend or two who end up seated away from the main pack, causing flight-long choruses of “Hey Brad! Brad! Dude!” to ring out across the cabin and inspire an atmosphere of tension and seething rage amongst the rest of the passengers.
Woe betide any unprotected groups of age-approximate females. Woe!
I feel like I’ve been on that exact flight. Groups of men on golf trips together, especially. Sunburned, baseball caps and yes, Bud Light at 10 am.
Ugggghhh this reminds me of the time I had a work trip to Vegas and I somehow ended up sitting in the middle of a large group of older couples who LITERALLY DRANK ALL THE BEER ON THE PLANE. At 8am on a Tuesday.
I took a late flight from Philly to Vegas (never leaving out of Philly EVER AGAIN) and I swear they cleared out the WHOLE PLANE. It was a nightmare. We landed at like 1am and I’m pretty sure the dudes just went straight to the casinos instead of where my ass went (sleep).
I’m sure that was incredibly annoying to be around but tbh I’m in awe of those old people and aspire to party that hard when I’m their age.
I did the Sydney-LA flight once, and sat next to a guy who started, continued, ended and started again the next morning, with beer.
Literally, the first thing he did upon waking up after sleeping in his seat, was ring the bell and ask for beer.
I once flew to Paris with a gentleman in the seat next to me who gladly shared the armrest and legroom. As dinner service started, he asked me if I would like to converse over dinner. We had our wine and meal and chatted. A real conversation; in no way an interrogation and he was not hitting on me. As our trays were removed, we thanked each other for the meal and I noted I was going to read. He wished me well and we went back to our own spaces in our heads. He was the best stranger seat mate I have ever encountered. I feel he could teach a class on the subject. I keep hoping to encounter more like him but it’s never happened.
To be honest, that sounds magical. You have experienced a phenomena not unlike a comet, or a full solar eclipse – they are known to occur, but how many of us will encounter one in our lifetime?
I think I once flew Ottawa to Vancouver with this guy’s brother. We had the middle seat free between us, and we agreed to leave our individual reading material there, so the other could enjoy it if they wanted. I didn’t read his Yacht Monthly or Fisherman Weekly, and he didn’t read my Harper’s or Nylon, but it was very pleasant and companionable.
This is so civilized I don’t even know what to think.
That is extraordinary.
I think I feel how my grandfather feels when he reads those weird “Angels on Earth” magazines and stories.
Was this a dream? It sounds like a dream.
The two ex-military guys who spend the whole flight discussing Illuminati conspiracy theories with complete seriousness. They are sitting on either side of you, but you are no impediment to their continued conversation.
Oh my word, this happened to me recently but the men spent 3 hours enthusiastically discussing tire brands and models they had known and loved, which rental car company’s fleet used those tires, and how disappointed they were nowadays with the tires on almost all rental cars. (And neither of them were tire salesmen!)
What happens when two true dads meet and have the social construct there to have three hour conversations about tires. Can and will.
As an ex-military lady, I feel your pain.
I get through current gatherings of ex-military people by a. knowing who can carry a conversation about not conspiracies or how Obama is destroying everything, b. ordering, at the very least, a porter (sometimes a stout), and c. having worked in the military/travel pay office and knowing the exact look that they fear.
My first event with the current group was a Super Bowl party. The host (who’d I’d met briefly a few times) offered me a hard lemonade and apologized for not having any wine spritzers. I replied with that look and a very casual “the fuck you think you’re talking to, (last name)?” — and every one of the guys in the room grinned a bit. He then said “well, there’s also some Aviators and Cheapass Bullshit Beer.”
I made a few friends in that very moment.
Last time I flew I was next to a music conservatory student who spent half the flight with his nose in the Bernstein piece he was going to conduct, and the other half watching skate videos on his laptop. He was also super nice to our infant son. I think we should all endeavor to be more like that guy on planes.
The dad who handles the kids all on his own and is an IRL hero (my frequent flying husband).
The kindly dad and his 8 year old son who put your 5 year old daughter at ease and entertain her for you when she had to share a row with them instead of you.
The really old dude who, through light chit chat, find out that you have an eerie amount of coincidences with (for one, he was the principal of your mom’s high school in a town of like 800 and you are flying to and from cities that are no where near there) and end up having amazing conversation for the whole flight.
My 9 year old daughter and I flew to Paris last year a row behind an 8 year old boy traveling alone and the kindest, most delightful older gentleman who proceeded to worry over the boy the whole flight. He made sure he was drinking plenty of fluids and made people let the boy cut in line for the restroom. At the very end, he waited with the boy for the flight attendant to make sure she knew that the boy must be very tired because he hadn’t slept a wink all night. It restored my faith in humanity on airplanes.
My neck is sore from nodding vigorously throughout this piece. This could be called “Men you see every day” or “men on public transportation.” As usual, I enjoyed. Laugh/cry emoji.
Here’s one that is exclusive to men,* but I find sometimes quite charming. The man who, when you happen to be wearing ANY kind of sport paraphernalia, instantly wants to discuss lots of sports with you, in detail, and you have to kind of smile and “mmmhmmm” and eventually be like “listen, I’m a bandwagon jumper, I can’t actually discuss the retired heroes of the 80’s and the terrible call in Game 6 of the 2009 series with you, sorry”.
(I was just at spring training with my mom and my sister BOY HOWDY were there lots of minor league baseball players in our hotel and made the mistake of wearing my Royals hat home on the plane to cover my greasy hair. So much baseball chat I couldn’t keep up with.)
*In fact, just remembered the charming young woman in the airport restaurant coming back from a bachelorette party who also did this to me, so maybe I should just stop wearing baseball regalia.
No, it’s OK to wear clothing advertising a team. When some dudebro comments on “my” team, I think up some very ignorant thing to say about it. For my New England Patriots hat: “I just love watching LeBron James on the ice, don’t you?” Peace and quiet ensue.
I like the saying an inaccuracy on purpose idea but you could also be blunt, “Look man, I just like the colors/the logo” or “Oh this thing? I just hate the Yankees so I will wear any other team’s apparel besides theirs”
I attended a workshop at a librarians’ conference where the presenter kept making sports jokes throughout the talk. One woman chuckled appropriately each time, but the rest of us just stared blankly. (Being librarians, I’m sure at least some were mentally cataloging the references to research later.)
Read the room, dude. Read the room.
I make a lot of sweet not-quite-elderly male friends on flights because I can talk golf like only the child of an avid golfer/rules official can.
Oh God man-leg-sprawl. I went to a screening of The Duke of Burgundy last night, which is a film about a lesbian BDSM relationship. It’s surprisingly convincingly and non-sleazily done, considering the director’s a man, and I had a blast, but I had to sit between two men who were both spreading their legs as far as possible, and I kept thinking ‘Ew, dudes, considering why both of you obviously came to this film, why are you doing that? It’s just going to make it even more awkwardly obvious when you have to cross your legs halfway through.’
I do carry-on only when I’m travelling for work so I do need the overhead bin, but the guy in row 28 who boards first and dumps his bag in the overhead bin for row 13 screws it up for everyone else by starting a cascade of Bin Fail (a friend who’s a flight attendant says when she spots this behaviour she has no qualms about taking the guy his bag and announcing in loud tones that he needs to stow it in in the appropriate bin. She’s my hero.)
That said: it is perfectly possible to stand well away from the boarding line then swoop in majestically just as they call your zone. You can do it, frothing guy!
I learned from House that those armpit testicles are actually the plague, stay safe everybody.
my best-ever seatmate on a flight was a lady whose daughter was about my age; after she summarized said daughter’s relationship woes, I said, “wow, that sounds really similar to the details in this conversation I overheard at [local bar/restaurant] the other night” & subsequently determined that it was likely I’d been sitting near her daughter & the daughter’s best friend.
This was years ago but I’m STILL mortified when I remember sitting between two gentlemen (built like rugby players/wrestlers by the look of them) who were friends or workmates and when one of them nicely asked if I wanted his aisle seat, my instinct was like, “no i’m not trouble nope thanks that’s so nice” and only waaaay after, I realized he just wanted to sit next to his friend.
SORRY FOR BEING DENSE, LARGE MEN
The guy who notices you are traveling for business (because you’re wearing a suit and he’s not blind), and then asks what you do, but only so he can one-up you on job title/amount of time spent traveling for work (especially all the red-eyes)/how much he misses his kids.
All of these, plus my all time favorite – Middle-aged WASP Matron who comments derisively upon your choice of reading material.
She is the greatest.
I had that once – “The New Yorker was so much better before that English woman ruined it” (Tina Brown)
Another man I encounter a lot on planes is Timothy Olyphant. Four times now. I prefer him to any of the men in this list.
oh, wow.
The man who sits in your seat and refuses to move b/c he’s already comfortably seated.
Especially when you specifically requested the window seat because of NEEDING SPACE TO BREATHE.
The guy who tries to explains air travel for the duration of a flight! I sat next to him recently, listened for about two minutes before realizing that this wasn’t a conversation but a lecture, and then interrupted to mention some interesting innovations in space flight. Ladies, if you need to shut this person up for the rest of the flight talking about satellite in even the vaguest of ways is effective.
I was once stuck in a queue for three hours behind two very short people, a bald Hawaiian-shirted man and his blonde, glittering girlfriend. They were not so quietly murmuring dirty things to each other and hands were invading the tacky holiday clothes. Dude had tiny feet but was wearing enormous flip flops. They had a hold-all each and the queue moved while he was in the loo and she just looked in dismay at the bag on the floor in front of her until he got back. Three hours, I said. I might still be holding a lot of anger.
the versions of these on the Acela (Amtrak from Boston-DC) are similar, but with even more dudes. The only dude I have ever been happy to see was Questlove.
I’m now literally laughing out loud at the idea of “Questlove” being added to the above list (what a happy addition that would’ve been!).
I’ll now add him to the weird mental catalog I have of Celebrities Other People Have Seen at Airports (along with my parents: Dennis Franz & Mario Batali, & my former coworker: Tom Morello. as you can see there’s plenty of room for additions).
Ahmir was kind and gracious and should be given a medal of some sort.
The other day I was on the same plane as Donald Rumsfeld.
I was on a plane with Penn & Teller once. I even heard Teller say words.
on the list, both of you (although obviously P&T>Rumsfeld). I actually got to interact briefly with Teller while in Vegas a couple months ago–it’s weird to realize that the “not talking” thing is only limited to his official onstage/on-camera appearances.
I also once ended up sitting next to my ex-boyfriend on a plane once, because it was the only seat left on a Southwest flight. that was hell of awkward, but on the plus side I ended up actually doing the reading that I otherwise probably would’ve avoided!
My boyfriend is still friends with his long-term ex, and she is really awesome and I like her a lot and I don’t feel jealous at all…
EXCEPT for when I have to hear the story of when they saw Questlove at the gelato place near where bf and I now live together. That is so unfair I can taste it and it feels like the universe is mocking our relationship.
on the bright side: you have a gelato place that Questo goes to, so you win.
I almost literally smacked into Mike Ditka in O’Hare once. Which would have been hilarious, since ramming into him would have sent me flying.
The man who (when you are a junior associate at a law firm and sitting in an aisle seat, traveling on business but wearing jeans) is sitting in your row with his (nice enough) kid in the middle seat and proceeds to tell you that his wife and other kid are in First Class because they could only get two upgrades and then asks whether you would mind if he went up to First and sent back the other kid, and then you could keep an eye on both kids, gets visibly annoyed at you when you say “sure, if you want to pay my hourly rate” and, when asked how much it is, advise him it is $400/hour.
WHAT. The nerve!
This is doubly WTF because clearly his wife already shot down the concept of having two kids in coach alone with strangers while the parents sat in first class. “Honey it’s okay, I found a sitter in my row!”
A+ reply.
“I just started this new medication and to be honest, I’m not sure how it’s going to affect me.”
Wow. Much Idiot. So Jerk. Obviously every woman in jeans is either a mommy or soon to be one, and just loves kids that much. Great comeback, though.
The guys who eagerly jump to their feet when a gorgeous woman gives her carry on a fleeting glance as she pauses in the aisle, preparing to place it in the overhead bin. Oh how their muscles flex as they preen and jockey for a piece of that small suitcase so they might be able to say they helped, so they might bask in the glow of her grateful smile, so they might swan with her into the sunset of a happily ever after. “You were on my plane, and you had a bag, and that counts as asking.”
oh noooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The men who scope you out to decide if you’re worth talking to, and then decide you aren’t.
I wish every plane was full of them.
When you are trying to sleep and the beverage cart is going by, and the man next to you is so worried you are going to miss that sustaining bag of 15 peanuts and/or drink that he shakes your arm repeatedly saying “miss, miss, wake up, you need to get your drink.” When you have a large water bottle already in the magazine pocket in front of you. And you’re in the middle seat and he and the man on the other side of you have just met and chat over you the entire 5 hour flight.
OH THIS. When I was in college I went through a romance novel phase. I was on a long-haul back to school and had stocked up at a used bookstore. I was next to this woman and her Equally Judgemental Husband. They asked if I was in college, I said yes, she said something about hoping I was spending my time wisely and enriching my mind and not just partying and thinking about sex (what is wrong with people?). I reached for my bag because I wanted to tune her out when she asked what I was studying. Seeing my chance, I “accidentally” let a few books drop. She noticed, looked disgusted at my books, and I happily said, “Oh, I’m an English major!”
The guy who calls out your first name and when you look at him questioningly, (because you’re 99% sure you’ve never seen him before but somehow he knows your name,) and then says “Haha! I read it off your ticket!” like that makes the behavior less creepy somehow. When you refuse to talk to him and walk extra fast to get to your gate, this same guy will come back up to you, and this time start the conversation with “Haha! I’m stalking you!”
Later in the dark parking lot when you can’t remember where you parked your car, you will cry because you think he might actually be in the shadows somewhere about to pop out with another witty, not-at-all-serial-killery remark.
D:
I saw the title of this post and immediately thought of the guy whose phone conversation I once live-facebooked while we were both waiting at the gate. It started with him talking about the importance of espresso bars “because I don’t want to sound like a tyrant or anything, but I just can’t TOLERATE places without an espresso bar,” but grew to include his inability to tolerate, as follows:
* people who are nice to children
* dogs
* bad service
* the UN General Assembly
* Burgerville
* Chicago (which was awkward because we were getting on a plane to Chicago)
* Electric cars (but he loved Rolls Royce and convertibles)
* Paying $72 a day for a rental car “without a GPS! I had to pay extra for a GPS! And taxes!”
* children, and yet “You know, I can’t TOLERATE children, but I think I missed the boat on being a father. Maybe I should’ve had kids.”
Sometimes, I wonder what he’s not tolerating now.
this is amazing! I just want to sit this guy down and demand an explanation for the last item. Ideally I can wear a suit and storm around like a cross-examining lawyer: “And just HOW were you planning to raise these children? Did you NOT ONCE think that PERHAPS they would pick up on your INTOLERANCE of them and become, in turn, EVEN MORE INTOLERABLE?”
How… how can anyone fail to tolerate Burgerville. All they want to do is sell you exorbitantly-priced but delicious fast food.
Burgerville is THE BEST, and I am forever sad/slightly grateful they’re not a national chain. I just want easy access to buckets of rosemary fries and that ridiculous Timber Joey milkshake, always.
I can’t help you with the Timber Joey milkshake, but if by any chance there is a SmashBurger near you, they serve rosemary shoestring fries ALL YEAR ROUND.
I read it as Buggerville and thought “well that’s fair”.
I suspect that now he’s having trouble tolerating being alone.
The slightly sad-sack but generally friendly-seeming middle aged guy who tells you all about the charity work he’s done, and by the time you figure out that he’s trying to sell you on his pyramid scheme, it’s too late, and you’re stuck in the conversation until the plane lands.
(No? Just me?)
I met this guy on a train in Italy. Super creepy. I was so relieved when his town was a stop before mine. Whew.
I get sick next to the religious weirdos who do that super fake friendly think as a segue to talking about Jesus. The last time it happened I saw him updating his blog with insane stream of consciousness ranting about the devil and when he finally turned his attention to me I just looked up from my book, said “no” and kept reading.
Bear with me, this is a long comment, but it contains both an awful plane man AND a badass old lady.
When I was in 8th grade, naive and unused to standing up for myself against awful menfolk, I went on a class field trip to DC. The return trip required air travel. I was in an aisle seat, and even then had beanpole long legs, so once we were up in the air, I had them stretched out a bit in the aisle. In the aisle seat in front of me was one of my classmates. He was an obnoxious pre-frat boy, who had spent the entire trip harassing his female classmates. He entertained himself this flight by reaching down and STROKING my ankles and shins whenever I stretched them in his vicinity, despite my several times telling him to stop.
Seated beside me was an older woman and her grandson.
Eventually, I got so annoyed and creeped out by the guy in front of me I threatened him with physical violence if he kept touching me. He of course thought this was hilarious. This caught the grandmother’s attention, so I told her what was going on.
A few minutes later, she got up to go to the bathroom. When she came back, as she squeezed by me to get to her seat I heard a loud THWACK. I looked up to see the Stroker holding his head and bent double in his seat in pain. The little old lady looked at him coolly and told him to watch where he put his head. Then she sat down like the queen she was, and we had a lovely conversation about my schooling.
I attribute this moment to planting the first seeds of misandry and feminism in my soul.
That older woman. That is who I want to be when I grow up.
I have since made a vow to pass her badassery forward if I ever have the opportunity.
How about the man who is concerned you may not have yet heard the Good News about Jesus, and conspicuously positions his religious text on the corner of his tray table in case it may prompt you to ask questions? He will also pray at takeoff and landing. So will you, but for different reasons.
“Oh yes, I know all about it. You see, I was raised in the church. I studied your bible in two languages for 20 years. I am now gently atheist, forever apostate.”
That last word, that’s what tells them I am irredeemable, best left alone. They can’t get away from me fast enough.
The guy who steals your window seat, gives you a “whatcha gonna do, lady” look when you check your ticket…And then mutters all flight after you’ve convinced them to move.
And the person who want to chat when you’re obviously in nap mode (leaning against the window with your headphones in, hood up, and closing your eyes). HUSH.
The guy who assumes that, as a “non-hottie”, you’d LOVE his attention because you’re obviously desperate.
Oh, please tell me the phrase ‘non-hottie’ wasn’t actually used at you? Please?
It was. Once.
Same guy asked if I was a Miss or Missus. I told him I was a Compassionate and Fearful Deity.
He fucked right off, as was best.
*stands up and applauds*
If I learned nothing in the military, it was the look that causes immediate, instinctive dread.
Reinforced when I worked the “athlete study hall” shift at the campus library.
The white men who talk loudly about how Eric Garner/Michael Brown wouldn’t have been killed if they’d just listened to the police. But this doesn’t just happen at the airport.
You missed:
The guy who eats the entire meal, in spite of a propensity for airsickness. Nature takes its course and you get to deal with a vomiting seatmate.
The guy who feels the need to both drench himself in horrific cologne to take up as much physical space as possible, so as to ensure that you are both smelling him and your legs are uncomfortably touching.
Once on a flight from Boston to Atlanta I sat next to an elderly gentleman who heard Kennedy’s Berlin Wall speech in person and implied that Kennedy would have hit on me. I still can’t decide if it was wonderful or terrible.
Probably a general, historically accurate comment, given the Marilyn thing.
I’ve met quite a few of these. I have also met: The Man Who Sleeps and Never Wakes Up During the Entire Flight, Even When the Plane Has Landed. This was a non-stop 4 1/2 hour flight from LA to Atlanta, and the fellow next to me slept the whole time. He was asleep when I got to my seat, and never woke up during the entire flight. (He had the window seat, and I had the aisle seat).
I came to the conclusion that he was simply channeling Professor Lupin from the third Harry Potter book, and that if Dementors boarded the plane looking for Sirus Black, he would definitely wake up and drive them off.
This is me (though: not a dude). I am a champion transit sleeper and especially on planes it’s something about the ambient noise + the pressurized cabin that puts me right out. Frankly, it’s the only thing that makes air travel bearable. As a bonus, it really cuts down on the jet lag.
The guy who hovers near the mouth of the luggage carousel as if he is going to dive through the rubber curtain to start grabbing luggage even though the carousel isn’t even moving because the luggage has not yet been offloaded from the plane.
Ok I am this guy though
I encountered Guy #1 on a plane once. He got out his phone as we were waiting to pull away from the gate and started listening to all 10 or 11 of his voicemail messages…ON SPEAKER. The rest of us in his vicinity all looked at each other like “who’s going to be the one to say something?” until another guy, the hero of the hour, tapped him on the shoulder and said “Excuse me, do you think you could take that off speaker?” (Guy #1 complied. I guess he’d already demonstrated he was an IMPORTANT BUSINESS MAN.)
Having flashbacks to the giant Army Dude who sat in the cramped aisle seat next to me on a trip across the country once. An hour or so in, he fell asleep on my shoulder – dead to the world by the time I noticed the pressure of “my shoulders are too big for this tiny seat” had morphed into “asleep on top of you”.
He stayed that way for four hours.
But tbh, I didn’t mind too much. He was rather dishy, did not attempt to chat once he woke up, and the heating on the bus had broken. Any source of warmth in a tight spot.
You forgot the guy who gets on DEAD LAST onto an airplane whose overhead bins are already stuffed to capacity and tries to make the world’s biggest deal about not putting his modestly sized briefcase under the seat in front of him. OH NO, this dude who is only on the smaller side of average, HE NEEDS EVERY MILLIMETER OF LEG ROOM.
Why no, I’ve never had the pleasure of being seated next to that guy. No. Never.
You are my new hero.
Can we add ‘The guy who spent precisely a quarter of the flight from Dubai to Australia telling you at length about his paleo diet, because he would bring it up every time food came out’?
Can we add 'The guy who spent precisely a quarter of the flight from Dubai to Australia telling you at length about his paleo diet, because he would bring it up every time food came out'?
The man who is every kind of asshole on the flight and then is greeted by the sweetest, most adorable children running up to him and screaming “Yay! Daddy’s home!”
The guy who sits next to you and says “Oh where are you from? India? Namaste!!” and then adds “But you speak such good English” and when you reply pleasantly, “Thank you. So do you,” turns red and sputters and mercifully, shuts the fuck up.
The struggle of traveling are real. There is seriously every single one of these people everytime. I just think it is so funny that this is so accurate about air travel. Thanks for the awesome article. http://amquipinc.com/parts-and-service/services-i…