This reminds me of a plane ride – dipping incident I had once…
On a long flight from Phoenix to Cleveland, I was sitting in a window seat, wearing headphones and watching an in-flight movie. I had just selected a full can of coke from the hostitute/flight attendant with the drink cart, and immediately pounded it in record time with the intention of using it as a spitter for a chew I had been looking forward to for a while.
So, I go through the routine of an embarrassed dipper, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention. The old man in the middle seat is asleep, and the lady in the isle seat was engrossed in her boring ass Danielle Steel novel. I then smuggle the can of Skoal Mint from its top secret hiding spot (the inside of my right knee high sock), grab a good wad and strategically place it in the lower right half of my eager mouth, thereby hiding the bulge from any possible onlookers. Happily engrossed in my dipful bliss, I sat back, relaxed and began watching the movie. Of course, every 30 seconds or so, I would grab the empty coke can, resting on the open trey table in front of me, and spit out the juice.
This went on and on for the next 30 minutes… watching the movie, grabbing the coke can, spitting, setting it down, watching, grabbing, spitting, setting, etc… I was so good at doing this that it did not break my concentration from the movie. That is, until I casually looked down and realized that my spitter had turned into a DIET coke can.
I then realized that I had accidentally grabbed the middle seat guy’s can of pop and had been spitting in it for an unknown amount of time. Well, needless to say, a decision had to be made.
Here were the facts: Middle Seat guy was still asleep. Isle seat chick was still attentive to her boring ass book. Diet Coke can was only 1/8th full (or 7/8th empty depending on your view of the world). I was pinned in the window seat. My options were limited.
Here were my choices:
- Option A) Stash the Diet Coke can in the magazine pocket, wait for the Hostitute/Flight Attendant to come by with a trash bag, get rid of the evidence.
- Option B ) Pour the contents of the Diet Coke can into the “real” spitter then put the empty can back on his tray table and pretend this never happened.
- Option C) Put the can back on his tray table and pretend this never happened.
Here was my decision:
I brilliantly chose Option A. No, wait… Option C. Ya, I brilliantly chose Option C.
A few minutes later, we ran into a bit of turbulence which awoke my middle seat neighbor. This alarmed me, but I remained cool as I remembered that the Diet Coke can was almost empty, and therefore probably abandoned. Then, as if in slow motion, I witnessed the following events:
– Middle Seat Guy licks his dry lips, looks around for the hostitute / flight attendant to no avail, then spots the Diet Coke.
* I start to get a little nervous
– Middle Seat Guy reaches for Diet Coke can
* I freeze, sweat matriculates from my scalp. Knees get week. Palms get clamy.
– Middle Seat Guy swishes contents of Diet Coke can around, determining if there is proper liquid content sufficient enough to quench his thirst.
* I begin to panic, consider offering a warning, but chicken out, hoping he will be uninterested in the minimal contents remaining in the Diet Coke can.
– Middle Seat Guy bends his elbow, tips his head back and brings the Diet Coke can towards his, now, slightly parted lips.
* Full panic mode. Instinctfully, I look for an exit, but, to my horror, realize that I am on a plane. I consider jumping out the window at 35,000 feet. I remember a story of a pregnant lady, a few years back, who went sky diving. Tragically, her shoot did not open as she ascended to her almost certain death. Miraculously, she ended up bouncing off a big ole’ wad Texas sage brush and survived, breaking something like 30 bones in her body. Somehow, her baby survived, too. I’m sure this lady now drinks her dinner through a straw and has the physical composition of Gumby, and her baby probably makes Corky from “Life goes on” seem like the second coming of Albert Einstein, but that’s not the point. I decide, however, against this figuring that we were probably not flying over Texas at our present position.
– Middle Seat Guy empties contents inside the Diet Coke can into his mouth. I see a string of brownish-clear mucusy liquid stretch from the corner of the open lid of the can to his lower lip as he pulls the, now, completely empty container away from his face. I see his Adam’s apple move up, in, then back down as he swallowed the contents.
As I witnessed the progression of emotions Middle Seat Guy went through over the next 15 seconds, I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the physical mannerisms that were associated with each, new reaction. It went from surprise to disgust to curiosity to disgust to confusion to anger to confusion and back to disgust. Then he just looked ill.
Middle Seat Guy excused himself past isle seat chick and retreated to the rear plane bathroom, where he remained in there for what seemed to be the greater part of eternity. I was somewhat relieved that I was not currently engaged in hand to hand combat at 35,000 feet, as my plastic dinner spork, provided by the airline for the inevitably unedible meal to come, would certainly not make that great of a weapon.
I then heard the sound of the rear plane bathroom door opening. I expected to hear Middle Seat Guy progressing his way down the isle, but instead I heard the grumblings of a conversation between a man and hostitute/flight attendant. I look back, and sure enough Middle Seat Guy was jabbering away in an inaudible rant of some kind. He then retreated back to his seat, apparently settling down.
And this next part I will never, ever forget. Middle Seat Guy looks at me, looks at my Coke can, then looks at me again. He then says, “Hey buddy, I wouldn’t drink that Coke if I were you. Mine tasted a little funny”.