Oh for the Passengers

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

I pride myself on being a reasonable person. Sure, like most people, I can get angry at times but I generally shrink from sharp words and conflict. So why is it, though I like jetting-off to see
exciting new places, that I can be moved to very, very dark thoughts in that thirty metres or so between the aircraft door and my seat? Why do I become a traveller on the brink of ‘falling down’?
If the cabin-staff knew what was about to go through my mind, they wouldn’t let me on.

Submitted: January 09, 2018

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Submitted: January 09, 2018



Oh for the passengers,

Who can read the row numbers,

And who know which letters correspond to which seats,

And can then match boarding pass number to seat.

Oh for the passengers,

Who know that ‘one piece’ of carry-on means ‘one piece’,

A small piece, claiming only a fair portion of the overhead bin,

And who can swing their carry-on into the bin with one slick move,

And then sit down promptly, clearing the aisle – for the queue forming behind them,

And then not immediately feel the need to get up again to extract some item now secreted above,

For them – or, more usually, for their vague travelling companions,

And who can then stay put until the top of the climb.

Oh for the passengers,

Who don’t feel the need to knock seated, dainty, organised me.

Oh for the passengers,

Who can switch off their mobile phones when told,

And turn down the audio of their tablets,

And keep quiet during the safety demonstration,

And the general announcements too!

Oh for the passengers,

Who have washed recently,

And who wear socks,

And who don’t wear singlets to show off their arm-pits.

Oh for the passengers,

Who don’t treat the sight of the trollies headed towards the tail as their spur to want to head forwards,

And who don’t need to stand up in the aisle for hours, and hours, and hours to converse with a friend,

Who they’ll soon wish they hadn’t decided to holiday with.

Oh for the passengers who can do all these simple things,

But, sadly, there seems to be only one in the skies: me!

Me, with my dark, dark thoughts.

© Copyright 2019 Nicholas Culpepper. All rights reserved.

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