IL Sprito Burpo

Have you ever eaten anything Italian, and then burp? That's what the inside of my glass smelled like on my Diet Sprite a while ago. Gross right? Since I finished the "La Sprito Burpo" my hands have swelled up, and I'm a little irritable. No music sounds good. I can't read from my favorite author. And there's only one annoying person on the plane and she's asleep. (When we were lining up to board, the steward said "Everyone line up in numerical order. A's first then B's."He said it with a lisp, but I understood it. The annoying lady said, "jesus, I thought you said B's so I got in line." The incredibly patient steward said, "yeth ma'am. But you're number fifty-theven." The annoying older skank said, "jesus! Why didn't you just announce it that way!?" She's asleep now across the aisle. I tried to hold her nose to kill her but she just started sputtering. When she looked at me suspiciously, I pointed at the gay flight attendant, and she mumbled something about how she knew it and how she should've flown the less gay airline Continental©.)
I have sitting next to me a Captain or something. His last name is Saurers or something like that. He's drinking the SouthWest Airline Cola. I bet it doesn't smell like an Italian jock strap. Anyway, it always makes me feel a little safer when you fly with other pilots on the plane. It's kinda like a false security. Like the "flying pilot" won't actually crash the plane, because one of his fellow pilots is on board. Or he'll make sure he touches down perfectly because he doesn't want to be made fun of in the Pilot locker room. I wonder if they actually haze each other. Do you think Dan the Pilot ever tells Pete the pilot that he just looked over his passenger list and Brad Pitt and some guy named Osama bin Ladle are on his plane. Do you think they ever put woopie cushions in the pilot chair? They sure seem straight laced. Like their idea of a good joke would be a yellow tie. Or another would be one pilot turning to his co-pilot and saying, "I just announced that it was mostly cloudy in San Francisco, but it really partly cloudy!" Then him and Preston share a really loud "belly Laugh". They all have the same haircut. They all wear the same silver colored watch. Most of them look the same age. Very few are chubby or fat. Most of whom I bet have horror stories that would make my skin crawl. "Bob, one time I took of the runway, and the landing gear stayed there. We emergency landed in a Serta perfect sleeper factory. Thank God!" or "One time, we had a bunch of strippers on board, and when we pressured up the cabin, their chests exploded. It was awful."
I'm about to land I think. People are making "mad dashes" to the tiny tiny water closets. I swear one guy wearing an AT&T shirt is literally holding himself like a three year old. The really cute blond perky flight attendant just told him, "sir , we can't form a line to the potty. You either need to sit and wait until that little red lite over the potty turns green, or wait in the back. Ok then? Thank you." But in a Southern, almost chocolatey sweetness. I almost wanted to wait back there with him and I don't even need to go to the "Potty". That nasty skank lady is awake. She's putting on lip liner. I've never seen that put on ... I've heard of it. I thought only Hispanic "Chola" gang members used it, but now I know I'm wrong. 50 something skanks on their way to Vegas wear it too. She's looking around the cabin to see if anyone saw her put on. I've tried this before (not the lip liner)but I don't remember it working, but here goes. "Hey you nasty, rude Danielle Steele reading, skank! Can you hear me? You sicken me. You really do." Nope. She didn't hear me. She just looked over at me though, like she heard what I was writing. I'm smiling at her. She does one of those quick, but" I really don't mean it" smiles. Like some people give drive thru people. "Would you like your receipt?" You do that fake "I really don't mean it" smile; "Yes please." She's back to reading her Steele book. I think it's entitled "Pulsing Member" or something like that. I should probably quit picking on her. She's probably reading a romance novel because she hadn't had any since she ran off Herbert, her husband of 31 years. I'm sure he left on the 31st anniversary of their wedding day, because he just couldn't handle it anymore. Anyway I said I would quit picking. I'm about to land in Vegas. I'll see if I can pick this back up after we take back off to Oakland. Until then.

I'm back. I just had to write this down. Right after I turned off my laptop, and right before we landed, a funny thought occurred to me so I listened to it. I turned to the pilot that was sitting next to me and said, "I just wrote about you." But with a sheepish grin, like a mental patient. He smiled and looked at me like I just told him I had naked pictures of him, and said so patiently even though he did hear me, "I'm sorry what did you say?" I said, "I just wrote a blog about pilots." Now he's looking at me like I have naked pictures of one of his distant relatives that he's always had questions about and I've somehow just confirmed one of his long suspicions. "Oh." He said, still a little uncomfortable. I explained the blog to him and he laughed. Nervously.
Have a great day!