New Rule Number One for Flying

One must keep their shoes on at all times.
Wouldn't you think that would be a federal regulation?
What if there is an emergency? We are all trying to exit but tripping over random shoes in the aisles. Or waiting for our aisle seat mate to get his shoes back on before we can exit.

You can guess where this is going, right?

Last year, I traveled exactly 100 flight segments on Delta, thanks to a last minute unneccessary re-route that gave me Platinum status. This means I get upgraded to first class occasionally, with all the stretch-yer-legs room you can imagine and free Bloody Marys (which I've learned to limit to no more than two).

Now there are certain things you see in coach you wouldn't expect in first class: booty shorts and tank tops, screaming children.... That is why they call it first class. In fact, the last time I rode in coach and bent over to retrieve my computer bag from under the seat in front of me, I got a face full of empty business-man shoes and smelly socks. Ack! But you can imagine my surprise, when, THIS happened.

I'm settled into my spacious seat against the window, reading my Nook Color and waiting to give my drink order. What? It's Sunday, I'm not working. In comes the seat-mate. Now there is a whole cast of characters who fly. But that is a whole 'nother post. Today, we are going to discuss ... goodness, I don't even know what to call her.

This lady ---- wait, she was no lady ---- this woman plops into the seat next to me, shoves her ginormous purse into the seatback pocket (whaaa?) and immediately removes her three inch heels, poking one each into the smaller pockets. Oh, maybe you've not seen first class before (tee hee).  Here's an image from Google....



So, into each of those two little pockets goes a strappy sandal. Now, I almost spoke to her at this point. I almost said, I admire a woman who ditches the big girl shoes ASAP, but I'm the "don't talk to me" seat partner and I didn't want to encourage a conversation. So, I kept my nose buried in my Nook (which is much harder than actually burying your nose in a paperback) and kept the corner of my eye on her.

And then, it got interesting.

See, she took her shoes off, not because they were uncomfy (though perhaps they were), but to give herself a foot massage. In first class. While everyone else was still boarding.

Sorry, forgot *** WARNING *** Graphic description follows. If you don't like feet, you better stop now. Oh, and be thankful I lost the phone upon which I photographed the following display. At the time, I attempted a Facebook upload, but it wouldn't go. I'm sure Facebook threw up a little in its mouth.

Actually this was not a foot massage. I enjoy foot massages. She played with her feet. Put her hands all over them. Between her toes. Oh. My. Maude. I thought I would die.

Then she got out the lotion. Yes. She lotioned up every square centimeter of both feet, including between the toes. Did I mention she was in a form-fitting dress that was a good five inches above the knee, and given that her form was that of a fireplug, it meant all those people coming down the aisle not only saw a woman rubbing lotion on her feet, but probably had the Sharon Stone view of such.

Finally, FINALLY!, the flight attendant took our drink orders. Definitely a Bloody Mary for me and a vodka/tonic for her. This is when she attempted conversation with me and I realized she had already started on the alcohol before she got on board. In case there was any question as to her state of mind, she proceeded to check out the boarding passengers and picked out a distinguished gentleman as he passed, "Excuse me, sir. I've only said this, like, three times in my whole life, but you are a very handsome man." Mr. Handsome was speechless and so very happy that he was passing the last row of first class and able to immediately duck past that little divider into coach. I yearned to join him.

By now the drinks had arrived (thank Maude) and Fireplug put down her iPhone long enough to take a swig. I kept wondering how she could swipe the screen with all that lotion still on her hands, but she managed. She also called a colleague relegated to coach (lucky bastard) and giggled how it was too bad they couldn't sit together. I couldn't hear his side of the conversation, but somehow I don't think he was too upset.

After another round of lotion :shudder: she pulled out the Skymall magazine and proceeded to read it like a Playboy. You know, tilting her head to the right and holding it vertically in her left hand. Now, I like Bigfoot a lot, but not THAT much. And I do solemnly swear, I'll never touch another Skymall again, having seen what they go through before I get there.

Finally, the door was closed and electronics were to be turned off. Suddenly, Fireplug needed to surf the web. Skymall had held her attention for at least five minutes, but now that iPhone had to be OFF, she needed it. So all through the taxi and the flight attendant announcement (during which the first class flight attendant walked by no fewer than 7 times), she is hiding her iPhone in the pages of Skymall and in and out of her purse so she can "just check one more thing." Finally, we are ready for takeoff and the flight attendant demands she turn the phone off and store it. She winks at me and tosses it in her purse. Still on. And just as we take off, it rings.

You'd think there would be nothing else to surprise me, but she did yet another round of lotion and then ate a bag of SunChips. :gag: She also spilled her drink on her linen dress and had to try to clean it up, first by squirming all over the seat with a stack of napkins and finally in the bathroom (which I'm so happy was beyond my view). The ultimate topper? She asked the flight attendant if he was twelve years old. Incredulous, he said, "Really, how old do you think I am?" and she replied, "Not a day over sixteen." How the man (who just had his 25th birthday last month) didn't know by now not to engage her, I don't know, so I really count that one as his own fault.

So, to recap our new rules:
1. Keep your shoes on;
2. Do not speak to a seatmate scrunched against the window with her nose in a book (or a Nook); and
3. The little bottles of lotion are for private use, not for a full on pedi in first class.

If you'd like to see the original rules of flight, I've captured them here. Or you can just click here to see all my travel rants -- er -- posts.