Yesterday I was "that asshole reading the Lena Dunham book in the airport"

Yesterday I was "that asshole reading the Lena Dunham book in the airport"
image by ja gledhill

Yesterday I was “that asshole reading the Lena Dunham book in the airport.”

Reading Lena Dunham didn’t necessarily make me an asshole. It wasn’t even that I was reading in the airport that made me an asshole. It was that I bought that book and then read it in the airport that made me an asshole.

If I was reading Tina Fey’s Bossy Pants, I wouldn’t have been an asshole. That’s a book you are supposed to buy in airports. But Lena Dunham’s book is for pre-ordering and reading on the train to work.

I also bought another book that promised to be funny: famous people even blurbed about how funny it was! But it wasn’t funny at all. It was wildly mediocre, which wildly annoyed me.

(Fitting, for “annoying” was the name of the game last night. At least THAT “annoying” was funnier that that book.)


For me, it’s rare that flights are annoying from wing to wing, nose to tail. But last night…

…the digital screen at gate H14 counted down to a boarding time that didn’t happen until 40 minutes after the countdown ended.

…there was this woman I posted about before takeoff:


I am certainly not opposed to “big mouth” women. There’s one living in my mirror at home. But this lady knew she was loud and annoying. #noapologies She tortured the whole plane the guy next her by telling the same story three times on a loop – something about wanting to be an interpreter after learning broken Spanish from the people whose hair and makeup she works on and now she wants to learn two, maybe three more languages. 

Her attention-seeking oration morphed into the love child of Ilyana Vanzant and SARK. She loudly shamed her seat neighbor for his lack of faith in his childhood dreams.

Then the gold medal of the 2016 Passive Aggressive Olympics sitting behind me asked the very kind flight attendant, “Can I ask you something? Why have you guys decided to roast us like chicken back here?”

Cue the farts!


And then we had a VERY LOUD LANDING. It sounded like the top of the plane was going to rip off the frame.

But it’s cool, baby. It’s cool. Because after it was all said and done, I got to rent a red, tinny Yaris and drive it into the warm night air of Phoenix.


That’s my piece and that my peace. Thanks so much for taking the time to read my silly words. It truly means the world to me. Carry on…


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