From my last two posts, you can tell that I was on a trip to India.

I figured I’d send you all a funny story about my trip coming over here while I was on my way going home. I’ve set the timestamp on this post to publish while I was in the air on my way home. If you happen to be reading this within 24 hours of the timestamp at the bottom of this post, you are reading it while I am somewhere in the air between Chennai and Moncton.

When I was boarding the plane in Montreal, the lady at the gate told me that I was moved from my window seat to the aisle seat in the same row due to the fact that the electronics in the seat weren’t working and I would not be able to recline the seat during the flight. I thought, “I wanted my window seat, but that’s a reasonable compromise.” Either way, it’s still a business class seat… it would be fine. Well, when I get on the plane, there’s some dude sitting in the window seat that should have been mine! I mentioned to the stewardess that the check-in lady had moved me due to the malfunction and I was surprised to see someone sat there. She was unaware of the issue with the chair and told me that unless I wanted to de-board and go back to the check-in, there was nothing she could do. I was pissed. I felt lied to. Then a few minutes later, she came back and asked the guy in “my” seat to check if it would recline. Lo and behold, it was malfunctioning. So they moved him to another seat. Then a few minutes later, they brought another dude over and gave him the seat. He was moved up to business class from cattle class. Well, this guy was a cross between Richard Simmons and Bullwinkle, with a British accent. He was wearing a Rolex, Italian shoes and was reading a Dupont Registry auto seller magazine. Ferraris, Maseratis, Lambourghinis, you name it. He looked like he was shopping more than dreaming. Then the meal choices came around. Beef, Chicken or Salmon. The stewardess asked him, and he opted for the “boif”. I asked for the beef as well. A few minutes later the stewardess came back and informed Bulltwinkle that they had run out of beef and that he would have to choose something else. He said, in his most pretentious accent, “I ordered before this gentleman (me), why should I have to change my preference?” She said, “Is it true that you were moved to business class from coach? It’s nothing personal, sir, but we must show preference to the passengers that have paid business class fares to be here.” Ha, ha! F you, you limey muthatrucker! Nobody gets between me and my ternderloin! For the rest of the trip, it was all I could do not to spit snots laughing every time he pressed the buttons to recline his chair, pressing harder, jiggling the buttons… I even reclined a couple of times, as far back is it would go, when I didn’t really want to. I just wanted this Rolex Royale to eat humble pie. It was funny to see him all hunched over forward trying to sleep while I snoozed away, reclined and comfortable. I hope I snored.

… Is that mean of me?