Twas the flight before Christmas, and all through the plane
Sat the idiots I hate who make traveling a pain.
One guy was loud, with opinions to share,
“The president is dumb and I don’t like his hair.”
I caught a stray elbow to the side of my head,
“Hey, watch where you’re leaning,” is what the guy said.
The seats I had purchased with this airline’s app
Were for rows three and four, yet they crammed us in back.
“You did something wrong,” the attendant did chatter,
“You’ll still get to Cleveland, so what does it matter?”
My seat had no window, I’d wasted my cash
on a seat in the middle by a guy with a rash.
“C’mon, hurry up, c’mon now, let’s go!”
Yelled a lady to the cockpit six times in a row.
We all understand there are flyers with fear
And the guy in row eight had subdued it with beer.
First came a cough, then the cup of a hic,
Then came the sound of him being quite sick.
These vapid damned people, there were plenty to blame,
So I bristled and pouted and gave them nicknames:
There’s Asshole, and Numbnuts,
And You’re A Big Dick, Son,
The World’s Biggest Shithead- –
Couldn’t Fit One More Turd In!
Then again came a blorch, and a splat on the wall,
The guy in row eight wasn’t done after all.
With dry heaves now his fate, a small baby did cry,
I’m right with you dude, you astute little guy.
A candy cane joust up in row twenty-two,
Twixt a family of boys was a screamfest turned blue.
Now paper bags crinkling—is that egg salad? Oof!
My sanity’s leaving—no wait, it’s gone: poof.
I clutched at my head, which did rhythmically pound,
Wished we crash in a lake, where I’d peacefully drown.
There came then an odor — ’twas my row mate’s bare foot,
On the armrest between us, the vile thing’d been put.
The moans that he moaned as he rubbed each toe crack —
Then I swear he reached in and scratched his nutsack!
My eyes fairly sprinkled - with tears big as cherries.
I dreamed of a field where this guy was buried.
He dug deep down south, flopped about in our row,
‘Til I feared he had reached spots I wished not to know.
My vision turned white, I’d forgotten to breathe ,
As these holiday travelers caused me to seethe.
I hated this plane, so noisy and smelly,
Each passenger glanced was increasingly Hell-y.
Wife and hubby nearby, each dressed as an elf,
Began, not discreetly, to pleasure themselves.
I squeezed shut my eyes ’til my lids nearly bled.
Why couldn’t these oafs have all driven instead?
Our friend in row eight unleashed one more blurk,
His sick bag was full, this plopped right on his shirt.
He then fell unconscious in awkward repose.
I envied the sucker, I grimly supposed.
The old man behind me, he started to whistle
A shrill piercing shriek like an incoming missile.
‘Twas a pop in my brain, and I had this insight…
I’d shop Black Friday malls over this goddam flight!
