This is our new rallying cry.
This is our response now to anything ridiculous, annoying or inappropriate.
Last month, Himself and I flew to New York by way of Minnesota to visit friends. It was an exhausting trip what with its whirlwind of socializing and sleeping in discount, stinky motels with uncomfortable pillows. But sometimes this is how a vacation goes.
The most painful part was the trip home. No direct flights from Rochester to the Bay Area, and since our travel plans often revolve around ensuring that we are not on eensy weensy planes (owing to Himself’s proclivity towards awkward and unpleasant side-effects on them) the most efficient routes are sometimes off our itinerary.
Case in point: flying home from Rochester was a trajectory that took us first to Atlanta, then to San Francisco. Let me just point out that the flight home from Atlanta was longer that the same flight would have been from, say, JFK or La Guardia. But we were in upstate NY, and we couldn’t fly through NYC for fear that we might get seated on, oh I don’t know, a mosquito.
On both legs of this journey, we were late in the boarding call. Which meant that we were last to try and get our carryons properly stowed in the overhead bins before sitting down and listening to a recording tell us how to fasten a seatbelt and how to not scream in blind panic in the unlikely event of a water landing. We were flying from Rochester to Atlanta. A water landing really suggested a plethora of problems of which the water is only a modest one.
This is stressful. People are trying to board while you are basically the cork in a bottleneck trying to figure out how much force you can leverage onto your bag to wedge it into a bin where you are guaranteed to not be able to get it out later without risk of injury.
Himself was desperately looking for a bin where there might be some room for reorganizing (while people are backed up behind him trying to get on, and people trying to go backwards are backed in front of him as they try to get their bags to the jetway for checking because they’ve given up all hope).
He found a bin that did not resemble a can of sardines, and started rearranging the pieces to make room for his bag so he could stow the damned bag and get the hell out of the way.
I should mention that two of the bags were Louis Vuitton. I can see where this is going, you probably can too. Himself, fully ignorant of what one Louis Vuitton bag means, let alone two, was sadly ignorant of the inevitable repercussions of his rearranging.
The woman who owned said bags looked up at him moving them around and said, “Really? Really?” as if some degree of choice were involved in his actions.
Himself politely asked if these were her bags. “Yes,” she said, “And one of them has a laptop in it.”
“Could you put one under the seat?” He asked.
“No.” She replied.
“Okay, then I’m going to stack them on top of each other and make some room.”
After he’d moved the bags around a bit she said, “Here, I’ll give you the twenty-five bucks to check it.”
Honest and for true. These are the words that left her mouth. Because the thing that is categorically the most effective tool in a crowded and stressful situation is snark and rudeness. I think I read that in Steven Covey book somewhere.
Himself was basically ignoring her at this point, seeing as how she was not being helpful and was more emotionally invested in being annoying, and he re-arranged the bags, got his bag in the bin, and beat a hasty retreat to the back of the plane where I was waiting for him where he relayed the story in all its glory. This was where I learned about the brand of the bags. He said at one point, “They were those bags with the letters on them…’L’ and something?”
So, I knew that no good would come of that exchange. He could have been Santa Claus trying to stow toys for impoverished children and he still would have heard the “Really? Really?”
Not to mention the offer of the $25 bucks.
I think he should have taken her money then stuffed his bag in the bin anyway.
So now when anyone says anything with which we even modestly disagree (things like, “Can I have the last piece of chicken?” or “How about pasta for dinner?”) someone in the family responds with “Really? Really?”
Although to date, no one has offered money.