Bimbos On A Plane!

A couple of Wednesday afternoons ago I was at the San Antonio airport waiting to catch my flight home from the conference I was attending. When I booked my ticket months earlier it I didn't even think about the fact that I would be traveling two day before the 4th of July weekend. Needless to say, the airport was a zoo.

As we got closer to boarding time they announced that the flight was overbooked and asked for volunteers to be bumped. I jumped at the chance for some free airfare. When they first announced it they said the credit would be $350, but by the time I got up there they had raised it to $500 to entice more people. They could not get me on another flight to New York that day, but could get me out the next morning and put me up in a hotel that night as well as buy me dinner. Oh, and the only seats available on those flights were in first class.

Pretty much a no-brainer.

So I spent my night at the airport Hilton and watched the Rays beat the Yankees on the big screen at the hotel bar. A good day all the way around.

Up early the next morning for my flight to Houston where I would change for the flight to Laguardia. First flight was uneventful and we were only in the air for 38 minutes. I was sitting on the aisle in the first row, so for the first time in my life I was actually the very first person off of a plane. It was kind of weird.

After about an hour-long wait in Houston I boarded my New York-bound plane. This time I was in the fourth row. I was sitting there reading my book when the person with the seat assignment next to me showed up. It was this woman wearing pink sweatpants and sweatshirt carrying two big purse-like bags and a tiger-pattern fur blanket. She was all a fluster when she squeezed into the window seat and plopped her stuff on the floor.

She had long straight dyed-blonde hair, skin that spent way too much time in the sun and too much makeup on her face. As she squeezed by me I could see that she had her pink sweatpants pulled up as tight as they would go to make sure the complete outline of her ass was there for everyone to see. One would presume, though I didn't not see, that she must have also had quite a cameltoe going. When she took off her sweatshirt, I noticed she had on a black t-shirt with large, graffiti-like letters on it. I was afraid to look, knowing that it was going to say something like "porn star," "bitch," "slut" or "juicy" on it.

It turned out to be "juicy."

She was talking over people's heads to another blond in the second row, it seemed there was a group of them travelling together who didn't get seats next to one another. The one in the second row had gotten on the plane before the one next to me and had actually walked down the plane looking for her seat before finally coming back and finding the right aisle. Seriously, I know that those signs with the row numbers can be small, but if you are in row #2 and get lost you are a major idiot.

So they close the door and make all the usual announcements about turning off electronic devices, stowing your crap, putting your seat up and fastening your belt tight across your lap. This is when the bimbo pulls out her iPod, turns it on, pops the headphones in her ear, puts her seat back and loosens her belt so she can turn to lay sideways. Neither of her bags were under the seat, just on the floor at her feet.

After we took off, and were told we could use our electronic devices, I put my headphones on and kept reading. Soon after, the girl decided to talk to me.

"Did they say we could get up yet."
"Well, the seat belt light is still on, so I don't think so," I answered.
"I really need to pee," she said.

Like I cared. What I wanted to say to her was, "You haven't actually followed any of the rules since you got on the plane, so why do you care now?"

But I resisted.

I thought that would be the end of it but she decided, for some unknown reason, to try to make small talk with me. She asked me if I was from Texas or New York, why I was in Texas, what I did for a living, blah, blah, blah...

I gave her the shortest answers I could and didn't ask her anything, assuming she was just a trust-fund baby from Texas. And I didn't care.

She asked me about the Hamptons, she and her friends had rented a house out there for the weekend. Specifically, she wanted to know if people were nice there or shitty New Yorkers, asking me to compare it to South Beach in Miami or L.A., her example of awesome places to hang out.

I said something like, "Well, people are just as shallow in the Hamptons as those other places, so you'll probably like it."

I was fully prepared for a slap to the face, but it would have been worth it.

She didn't even get what I said. She actually seemed relieved and said, "cool!"

One thing I should mention. This chick was not around 18 or 20 as the pulled tight pink pants, "juicy" shirt, bleached hair and general air-headedness would lead you to believe. No, this as somebody who looked to be about her late 30s. She could have possibly been in her early 30s and just aged badly due to the tanning and the cigarettes, but still.

I hated these kind of bimbos when I was in my 20s and they only get more and more annoying as I get older

I'm always happy to come home to my wife when I'm away, but I've never been more appreciative of the woman who puts up with living with me after that encounter.

But I'm also reminded how hard it is for women. For every step forward taken for womankind by professional, smart, educated and hardworking women like my wife, there are narcissistic boy-toy bimbos taking them two steps back.

And I know it's not even the bimbos' fault. It's the fault of the too many men who prefer the dumb slut over the smart, accomplished woman. If it wasn't for those jackasses there would be a lot less bimbos in the world.

And I wouldn't have to be so annoyed when I fly.

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