(no subject)
Jun. 2nd, 2005 10:32 amOn the flight home from Chicago to Dallas, I was seated one row in front of someone I came to call Post-Nasal Drip Man.
Post-Nasal Drip Man had a habit of snorting about every 10 minutes. I think it was an unconscious reaction. Allergies or something.
Nonetheless, it was one of those tics that just grates on the nerves. Two and a half hours, every ten minutes. Snort. Snort. Snrf. I was very tempted to hand the guy a travel pack of tissues. Or maybe stuff one up his nose.
As we were boarding the flight from Dallas to Oakland, I was praying aloud (quietly) that I would not get seated near Post-Nasal Drip Man this time. Please God, please please, God, please. Steven, overhearing me, remarked perkily that maybe he wasn't on this flight.
In reply, I snapped, "Steven, he's the guy in the yellow t-shirt and shorts about ten feet behind us."
Post-Nasal Drip Man did not overhear me. But one of the flight attendants did.
"Ma'am, do you have a problem with another passenger?" she asked. No, demanded.
I tried to demur, but she was quite insistent. "Ma'am, if you have a problem with another passenger, please let us know."
"No, no problem, it's nothing," I said, waving my hands merrily and skittering away to my seat.
Post-Nasal Drip Man was seated about ten rows behind me.
Post-Nasal Drip Man had a habit of snorting about every 10 minutes. I think it was an unconscious reaction. Allergies or something.
Nonetheless, it was one of those tics that just grates on the nerves. Two and a half hours, every ten minutes. Snort. Snort. Snrf. I was very tempted to hand the guy a travel pack of tissues. Or maybe stuff one up his nose.
As we were boarding the flight from Dallas to Oakland, I was praying aloud (quietly) that I would not get seated near Post-Nasal Drip Man this time. Please God, please please, God, please. Steven, overhearing me, remarked perkily that maybe he wasn't on this flight.
In reply, I snapped, "Steven, he's the guy in the yellow t-shirt and shorts about ten feet behind us."
Post-Nasal Drip Man did not overhear me. But one of the flight attendants did.
"Ma'am, do you have a problem with another passenger?" she asked. No, demanded.
I tried to demur, but she was quite insistent. "Ma'am, if you have a problem with another passenger, please let us know."
"No, no problem, it's nothing," I said, waving my hands merrily and skittering away to my seat.
Post-Nasal Drip Man was seated about ten rows behind me.
Snort. Snort. Snrf.
Date: 2005-06-02 06:31 pm (UTC)I believe Peggy Post does say that offering a tissue to someone is not in bad form.
Don't tell anybody I read Peggy Post.
no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 06:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 09:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 10:49 pm (UTC)