To the Lady on the Plane....

Dear Stranger Seated Next to Me,

Yes, my baby is screaming. No, I do not want your opinion on how I can quiet him. Also, you sticking your dirty stranger germ covered fingers (good lord, I watched you scratch your nose twice) in his face to pinch his cheeks will not help calm him down.

Now that I have gotten him quiet I continue to have no interest in you or your opinions. It does not take a village; it took a very tired mommy who was willing to nurse him in public despite the fact that "it wasn't done in your day." I bet in your day you didn't yammer so damn loud on your cell phone as to wake babies up either. Welcome to the twenty first century.

And, no, I don't know how to work your light, seat belt, or air vent. I cannot get your bag down for you so that you can find a tic tac. Please stop buzzing the flight attendents every fifteen minutes to see how long until we land; I can only disavow knowing you so many times. Furthermore, just as a minor pet peeve in the long list of sins you have managed to commit within the thirty minutes since I was sentenced to sit next to you, why the hell are you doing the crossword if you are going to look up each and every answer in the back? I mean, what's the point?

Lastly, when I finally close my eyes because both of my children are quietly sleeping and I can catch some zzzs the answer to the question of whether or not I want to talk to you is no.

I hope that whoever is picking you up shows up; the odds are not in your favor.

-me