16 Passengers Who Are Definitely On The No Fly List Now

New York Times bestselling author, Fran Lebowitz, once said of the easily offended, “Being offended is a natural consequence of leaving the house.” That quote has stuck with me since the day I heard it. I try my best to apply it to every situation where I find myself staring at the reprehensible actions of another human being. I say, “Yes, they’re repulsive. But it’s their right to be.”

But do those same rules apply when you’re stuck in a claustrophobic cylinder tens of thousands of feet in that air? I can’t walk away from your six-inch toenails on a plane. I can’t shiver and turn a cheek to you peeing into a 2L Coke bottle across the aisle. I’m stuck with you, you hairless ape. I’m not sure how I’d react, all I can do is hypothesize. But, at the very least, these hairless apes need to be put on a no-fly list. For the good of all things… good.

1. These pretzels are making me thirsty.

Look’ad’is! Look at it! These gad-dang heathens making a mess on this gad-dang plane. Seriously. Alarm bells ought to be going off in the heads of the the flight staff when a row of passengers forgoes the microwaved meal o’ muck and opts for 68 bags of pretzels. Karma will take care of the heathens, though. Their mouths are going to be drier than popcorn fart, I guarantee that.

2. The face of victory.

That, friends, is the face of victory. The face of a man who knows very well that this metallic, cylindrical people-mover is 50,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean with no conceivable way of landing, so he’ll happily stay lounging and shirtless for the next 10-hours.

3. I can’t help but notice there’s a large crack in this plane.

Do you know how much a return flight from London to Los Angeles is if you’re flying British Airways first class? Roughly $10,000. Now, imagine after paying 10,000 bones, sitting in your seat and just as the plane approaches cruising altitude, the senile geriatric in seat 1A decides now is the opportune moment to unclothe his body. A body that has had a long and disagreeable fight with gravity. 

4. I can smell them.

I can honestly smell the smells rising from their alcohol-infused pores. Every time she fans her legs, she wafts her sweaty thigh fumes in my direction. He scratches himself and instantly I’m hit with the pungent aroma of whiskey and cigarettes. Let it be over quickly, dear God. Let it be over quickly.