I’m a Badass

The wife shoves this book in front of my face the other day. It’s a self-help book, which is not something I usually read, but she does all the time. “Read this. It’s funny. And she curses.” Ok, funny with f-bombs. I’m in! And I like the title, because I foresee shouting, “I’m a badass!” all the time. I’d probably add, “I’m a fucking badass!” To make it that much more personal.

So, I’m given the perfect opportunity to start reading on our flight to Florida yesterday, with our good friends Frontier Air. We wake up at 4am to catch our 630am flight. Unfortunately, we woke up in an ice storm. Great. But we make it to the Trenton airport and the flight is supposedly on time. We board at 6am, and I take the window seat. I settle in for a few hours of quiet reading to discover my badass self. My paradise did not last long because, surprise! In the row behind us are two small boys and their mother. Dad was in no-man’s land in the seat across the aisle. It’s 6am and I have no clue how two children can be so awake. Don’t ask me ages, I cannot age children, I don’t do the whole kid thing. I can say this, they were not in high school and they were not in diapers. One, while strapped in, was not tall enough to kick the seat back, but his arms were long enough to repeatedly flip his seat tray up and down. The other one, the one behind me of course, had long enough legs to kick my seat back. So you guess their ages.

Anyway, mom is feeding them donuts and they’re jacked up on 65 grams of sugar and are constantly talking. I already know their names, Tim and Derek. Tim was behind me, and leaning forward to look out his window, so his voice was right next to my ear. The plane needed to be de-iced, so he’s excitedly watching the dude who’s spraying the plane, waving at him and saying hi, and asking mom why he’s not waving back, giving us all a blow by blow of what color the plane wing is turning, “It’s yellow! Now green!”

The de-icing is taking a while, so the captain comes on and says we can use the bathrooms if needed. Mom gets up and the fuckery escalates cause dad is useless and totally loses control from his perch across the aisle. The boys are really bouncing around now, and he’s just saying, “Derek, sit down. Tim, stop punching him,” and on and on.

Finally, mom comes back and restores some semblance of order. During this time, I’m trying to find my badass self. But it’s hard with my new best friend Tim shouting in my ear.

We’re ready for take-off, and the boys are in awe. “Mom, look at the houses. Mom, where’s our house? Mom, I can see cars. We’re in the clouds.”

Or the classic, “Why can’t we go upside down?”

And my personal favorite, “I can see Africa!” (Tim channeling his inner Palin.)

Let’s check in with dad. Oh yeah, sitting comfortably reading a magazine. Meanwhile mom’s hair is falling out and her acid reflux is kicking in as she pleads for the boys to sit still and stop yelling.

We get to cruising altitude and mom asks which movie would they like to watch. The choice was Baby Boss.

Hooray! I’m excited. Some quiet time is coming, my badass self is minutes away. Only they don’t have headphones, so now Baby Boss is playing in my ear. After about fifteen minutes, mom asks Derek if he wants dad’s earbuds. I quietly plead, “Yes, Derek, please fucking yes, take the fucking earbuds ma little dude.” His choice, sadly, was no. I sigh. I put my head back and close my eyes and listen to Baby Boss. My badass self will have to wait.