So as I figure it, with Blofeld in Seat F, I’d be on the unscarred side, which is good, but I don’t relish the thought of hearing him go on about how he was behind every occurence that led up to my getting on the plane. More importantly, let’s remember Kerim referred to the guy in Seat D as “that stinking Krilencu” and air travel is unpleasant enough without dealing with body odor for hours on end.
Instead, I choose Elvis, who at least is generally quiet. Also, before we back away from the gate, the Chief of the Snow Leopard Brotherhood will doubtless be removed from the plane by (admittedly until now delinquent) TSA officers for brandishing firearms and bandoliers full of ammo, leaving me with unobstructed access to the aisle.
There you were, with a row of seats to yourself, having a splendid dream about a turtle with the face of Sylvester Stallone and the aroma of freshly mown mendicant, and now the cabin crew are tapping you on the shoulder with one of those useless oxygen masks and are asking whether you would be kind enough to move to allow parents and a screeching baby to sit there.
Being a nice / gullible person, you agree, even if one look at this family suggests they would be better off unbred, although are possibly inbred. The father has eyes like bedbug scabs, the mother appears to curate opportunities for flab.
Your choice of alternative seating is as below; no good deed goes unpunished.
Seat A: J W Pepper; Seat B: You; Seat C: A Komodo dragon
Seat D: Bibi Dahl; Seat E: You; Seat F: Little Fat Stabby Man of New Orleans
I’m fairly sure even 45 years later Bibi is still manifestly underage and our Little Fat Stabby friend has still a piercing mode of conversation, so both are to be avoided.
Pepper, given history’s appetite for farce, is now the current US ambassador to the UN, special envoy to the Vatican and Middle East and has just been tasked in a tweet with the assignment to defuse the latest mushroom-shaped disaster, wherever that happens to be (likely closer than you think, kiddo…). Fifteen minutes of his prattle will likely buy me a new house; two hours of it should cover the NATO budget until 2035. I’ll just put up a live feed to the net and connect it with a crowd funding kickstarter. Once the dragon and I decide we have enough we swap places…
Having never been put off by Bibi Dahl as much as some, I would happily sit between her and the little stabby man, sorry, little fat stabby man. If nothing else, I’d be the tallest in the group and therefore enjoy at least the illusion of the most spacious seat.
I would happily sit with Bibi and the other seat-mate would not matter at all! I would have been 11 or 12 the first time I saw FYEO. I was already fully charged in terms of attraction to girls/women. At that age, I did not understand why Bond was rejecting her advances.
Today, things have changed as I have 15 and 27 year old daughters. So I would enjoy a fatherly/grandfatherly chat with Bibi. If there were advances from her, I would feel disgusted or might have a heart attack. At 57, I am far too old for this. I like younger women like my wife who is very, very young for me at 45.
It’s probably not doing your carbon footprint any good whatsoever, but here you are yet again on a cheap flight because they dangled that low, low price in front of you like a stripper, and you succumbed. You’ll have time to contemplate your weakness in more “comfort” whilst sitting between…?
Seat A: A leaking vial of Heracles; Seat B: You; Seat C; One of Drax’s demon dogs
Seat D: A Golden Grotto shark; Seat E: You; Seat F: A leaking atomiser of Virus Omega
I‘m honest, I spent some of the best times in my life with a Doberman by my side*, no complaints there. And Heracles won’t bother me particularly; nobody spends time and effort on programming that complicated a weapon to get rid of me. So seat B is the perfect place for me. Though it’s more likely I‘m spending the flight petting the Dobi until it rolls over on the floor.
*And my wife and I watch even that Magnum PI remake simply for the Doberman cameos.
Oh, but it’s not about proper dogs - it’s about proper demons and a Doberman beats any Lab at that game. They‘ve been bred by what one might call a distant colleague of my profession specifically for the demon role. With some success apparently.
Komodo dragons, unattended Dobermans, leaky vials of lethal substances, all with ticketed seats?
All I can say is I hope no one from the major airlines is reading this thread, because the last thing they need is suggestions for making air travel an even more miserable experience than they’ve made it already
First of all: I love Labradors. But I love dogs in general. Did not have the pleasure of meeting a Doberman yet, but Zeus and Apollo seem to be really polite if you don’t drive a Ferrari and wear a Hawaiian shirt, so I feel pretty safe.
Second: How can I be the only one choosing Virus Omega as seat buddy? And the Shark, too, but both seem pretty harmless, and I don’t plan on procreating anymore anyway, so that would be one nice, calm journey. Judging from the behaviour of people on planes and airports I would not mind releasing both, either.
After her experience with Bond, Octopussy diversified further her portfolio of shipping, hotels, carnivals, circuses, geriatric spies and athletic female concubines, into budget airlines, with just as much competence as in those other things i.e. devastatingly little.
Well that or A! Nuclear! Bomb! Or some leeches. Or an sad old man dressed as a lacrimose clown who needs to be put out of our misery. In-flight “food” - Vijay julienne.
easyPussy jets are flown out of horse’s backsides, for your comfort.