Open Letter To The Lady On The Plane

Dear (bigger) lady sitting next to me on the plane ride home - hogging the armrest,

I know it perhaps isn't my place to say, but please, for the love of Wink Martindale's hairless testicles, quit making those moaning noises when you exhale. Do you even know you are doing this? I doubt it. I would think most people would be more aware when they sound like they have small foghorn lodged in their throat.

Well, atleast, I give you credit for helping me pass the 4 hour ride with some interesting thoughts, such as, 'what is causing this horrifying moaning?' 'Is this lady's trachea so thick with fat, the air cannot escape without creating a low hum?' 'So, this is how hate feels', and 'is there someway I could lure her into the lavatory and kill her and get away with it?'.

Well, I hope I have shed some light on how unpleasant you've made my flight. Just thought you should know. Oh, before I go, one more thing: the in-flight movie, Miss Congeniality 2 probably doesn't deserve the amount of gutteral laughs you've mindlessly decided to donate to it, and although I haven't seen the Sandra Bullock-laugh-a-minute-riot, I highly doubt it's touching enough to warrant a good cry either. Hopefully, next time around, you'll get a grip and work on a Jumble or something.

Or better yet, sit somewhere else...like maybe next to your young daughter, who you've lovingly ditched 3 rows back in a middle seat next to a couple of swarthy, drunk, horny businessmen. Actually, come to think of it...that is a better seat than mine.

Regards,
The Guy Sitting Next To You.