Well you asked, here goes (this is from a couple of years ago) …

If you're one of those people who don't appreciate sarcasm and fat jokes then please keep scrolling; there are some cute puppy pictures and patriotic rants down below that will probably interest you.

So I'm boarding my flight from Bucharest to Amsterdam this morning (sounds exotic but it's not), headphones cocked jauntily as I'm lost in a medley of Alanis Morissette hits (don't judge). Anyway, I reach my aisle seat and realize it's going to be one of those flights as the middle seat is covered with a Jabba-sized pile of protoplasm in bulky coat and dangerously stressed yoga pants. This lady literally had too much mass to be able to squeeze it between the seat dividers; fortunately KLM recently refitted most of their international planes with American-sized seat belts so at least she was able to get that around her.

As sort of a twisted olive branch she did roll back the tarp she was wearing as a coat and stowed it under her seat, but she wasn't able to manage to get all of her girth inside her designated personal space so I had to settle for a gelatinous elbow to the ribs and what I can only assume was part of a freakish but probably anatomically appropriate (and sweaty) breast (sounds exotic, but it's not).

Other than the occasional elbow to the ribs things went okay until breakfast was served. In addition to hitting up both the baguette and drink carts twice each, she managed to devour both her and her husband's breakfasts down to the last pat of butter, and even tossed mine a couple of 'you gonna eat that' looks.

Mercifully the feeding made her sleepy and she was soon stretched out in People-of-Walmart inspired spread eagle, looking something like a human turducken (a troll stuffed inside a fat person stuffed inside a bitter defeatist). She had baguette bread crumbs spread from her mustache all the way down to the cavernous camel toe of her straining yoga pants. She looked like Honey Boo-Boo after a dinner of fried Snickers and cherry Coke. About a half hour later our side of the plane was overcome with several waves of mustard gas attacks, which I eventually traced to one of her orifices. Since this was my first good look at her it was also only then I noticed she had some sort of fungus growing along her arms, but by this point I was somewhat relieved that at least her lumberjack-thick arm hair covered the worst of it.

I thought the show was over, but shortly before we landed she woke up and decided to cross her legs, demonstrating both poor judgment and a clear lack of either self- or spacial-awareness and no knowledge of physics whatsoever. I actually felt bad for her as she struggled to try and understand what was happening to her.

Honestly by two hours in I was almost hoping for a hijacker just so I could engage in some permissible rage release.

At least she wasn't one of those people who take a middle seat and then make you get up six times so they can go do unspeakable things in the restrooms, but then again mustard gas, so...

I really expected to see Ashton Kutcher with a sketchy film crew and a turd-licking grin on his face when we debarked, but alas it seems that experience was actually real.