Keep my bubble to me…

So I’m writing at the airport waiting for my second leg of my trip. Why you might ask. Because if I don’t Wayne Brady may have to slap a bitch… okay maybe not that extreme but my last flight made me close to losing my oh so delicate temper that I’d like to not do it on the second.
My first leg I was stuck in a middle seat… thanks sweetie for booking that…. First I had one side empty but I heard a lot of commotion at some guy sitting in the wrong seat right behind my empty seat. He was in the wrong seat. He just didn’t feel like sitting where he belonged. Well I don’t feel like doing many things but we end up having to do it. Then He comes to sit down. Fine in this day and age some say weight prejudice is the last accepted prejudice… whatever… This man should have bought two seats and that’s all there is to it. During our flight he was hella tired and kept falling a sleep. In the process he hands, clenched together, fell. He’d jerk and then reclench. Dude, after this happens every 10 seconds for like 3 minutes. Wake the fuck up!
So now I’m waiting for my flight. I had sat down on a seat only to move because I had some motion sickness coming on from the mother bouncing a baby… I moved and then the baby started crying… I’m usually way more patient than this but today, that patience seems gone. Possibly if I had my far right window seat I’d have more patience…. Maybe….
Maybe not cause my second half of my flight included a year and a half old boy on his father’s lap crying and kicking my chair and about twenty minutes before landing taking a dump in his pants which added aromatherapy to the flight….