I took the red eye home from LA on Sunday night. I was hoping I'd be able to sleep the entire time, but I'm not a total idiot; I was aware that it might not be possible for a variety of reasons. I figured that if I wasn't able to get any sleep, at least I'd be so exhausted when I got back home that I could go to bed early and my body would be able to readjust to east coast time without much issue.
The flight boarded at 9:45. I had a window seat. There was a guy in the aisle seat, and up until 30 seconds before they were about to close the door, we had an empty seat between us. THEN SHE APPEARED.
At first glance, I thought she looked like Lindsay Lohan. Bigger arms (but who DOESN'T have fatter arms than Lindsay Lohan?) and darker hair, but the same look. She even had on black leggings. Regardless, she plopped herself down in the middle seat and stowed her enormous black purse and then she poked me.
“I read that book,” she said, gesturing to my copy of The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. “It's sad.”
“That's what I've heard,” I said.
“I only read it until it got sad,” she said. “I'm such a DOG person [makes weepy eyes] so it was just so hard to read. I should probably try reading it again.”
“Mmmm hmmmm,” I said, because I didn't want to commit to any kind of conversation with anyone for two reasons: 1) I wanted to SLEEP and 2) I spent the entire six-hour flight TO Los Angeles chatting with my two seatmates, and while that was all well and good at the time (WE ORDERED FOOD TOGETHER, EVEN, myself and two total and complete strangers), I had no desire to do it again. Do you know how exhausting it is to talk for six hours while strapped into a row of seats? I felt like that video of cats watching tennis, snapping my head to the left and then to the right and then back to the left again so I could catch the conversation over the drone of the engines.
Anyway. Lindsay left me alone after that, and I put my book away when the plane took off and made myself as comfortable as possible (which isn't comfortable at all, actually) and closed my eyes. About 20 minutes after takeoff, I heard her start up a conversation with the guy on the end of our row. It was the most annoying kind of conversation, the one where someone who has lived in LA - but who isn't actually anyone of note – talks to someone for the sheer purpose of dropping names.
Oh, her dad shares a boat slip in Malibu with Brad Pitt, and she hangs out with Bradley Cooper, wasn't it so great when he got that role in The Hangover? He was SO EXCITED about it; isn't he funny in the movie? Andy Dick and David Spade are SUPER short in person, but Liam Neeson is a giant – yes! He's HUGE in person! And Angelina is nice enough, but she's disappointed she never got to know Jen very well.
And on and on and on and almost all of the details she was giving this dude next to her were something we all could have read on People.com and then there was some kind of guessing game between them about how old they were and OMG, being 29 is like, the scariest thing ever, you know? Oh, you're just 24? Practically a baby! Wait until you're 29, seriously. It is just, like, SUPER scary.
At some point, they stopped talking, so I could stop rolling my eyes behind my eyelids. She ordered and paid $8 for a movie (The Hangover, NATURALLY) and laughed out loud at it for a while (irritating!), then she turned on some music and settled down to try to sleep, even though she'd already loudly declared that she never slept on red eye flights; she just couldn't do it no matter how hard she tried! Of course, the music was absolutely blaring out of the earphones, one more annoyance preventing me from drifting off.
Eventually, though, I snoozed a little. Not heavy, deep sleep or anything, but I know I was in and out of light sleep for an hour or more. The plane was quiet and dark for the most part. I was leaning my head against the window with my feet stretched out under the seat in front of me.
And then.
Apparently while I dozed, she lifted the armrest between us. I know this because I was jolted awake by her bare feet, which were DIGGING INTO MY STOMACH. This was not a case of her accidentally brushing up against me while rearranging herself. Nor was she mistaking me for the armrest. Swear to you, she was PALPITATING MY SIDE WITH HER TOES. Seriously, she was KNEADING my abdomen with her NAKED TOES in an effort to make herself comfortable. And not in a pleasant way, either – this was DIGGING. It occurred to me at that moment, based on the conversation I had overheard and just the way she was going about her business, that she thought she was higher and mightier and way more deserving than either of the people sitting beside her and was going to make herself comfortable in that middle seat at everyone else's expense. So she was trying to stretch out as much as she could, which meant that she felt completely justified digging her feet into my side (WITH THE ARMREST UP) and leaning her head on the other guy's shoulder.
Now what you'll have to understand is that I'm not a confrontational person. Yes, she was invading my personal space. But it was the middle of the night and I was kind of tired and groggy and out of it, so instead of saying anything to her, I just rearranged myself (WITHOUT OPENING MY EYES VERY MUCH, so I wouldn't have to make EYE CONTACT, EMBARRASSING) and got into a position that made it more difficult for her to touch me with her feet. She flopped around like a fish for a while and finally settled down and got myself into a new, relatively comfortable position (I was sitting on one of my feet and had my other foot resting on the armrest of the chair in front of me so my knee was propped up) (WISH I COULD INSERT A DIAGRAM HERE) and think I drifted off again for a few moments because when I woke up
(and here I would like to insert a nice pause for emphasis)
(and another pause, because SERIOUSLY, do you EVEN KNOW WHAT COMES NEXT?)
she had BOTH OF HER LEGS PROPPED UP ON MY KNEE.
Both! Of! Her! (skinny) LEGS! Just RESTING up there, ON MY KNEE, like I was her PERSONAL OTTOMAN. With her ankles crossed, even! It looked LEISURELY!
Which, OMG, seriously? SERIOUSLY!? I mean, how high of an opinion do you have to have of yourself before you rationalize putting your legs up on a complete and total stranger just because you have the middle seat and you want to get comfortable? YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME. This wasn't a case of someone falling asleep and their head accidentally drifting onto someone's shoulder. That is accidental and embarrassing and also kind of endearing if the person who falls asleep on you is an attractive man who blushes when he wakes up and wants to take you to dinner to make it up to you. That's one thing.
This girl decided what, that I owed it to her? That she was younger and more attractive and could get away with it? That she was BETTER THAN ME?
Oh HECK NO, Lohan wannabe.
But again, me with the nonconfrontation issue, you know? I think I said, “Excuse me,” as tersely as I could manage, which probably just sounded groggy and confused and she actually got HUFFY and did that loud exhaling thing and rearranged herself again. And again, and again, actually, until the lady in front of her yelled something about KNOCKING IT OFF PLEASE, and then she stayed quietly in her own personal space until we landed, even though she made it clear that she didn't want to.
I mean, HONESTLY. Honestly!
I have never been so happy to be on a plane that landed an hour early in my entire life. And then I got home and spent the next hour wondering if it had really happened. (It did. It happened. I still kind of can't believe it.)


