Day One: Epic Fail

NicoDerm aired a commercial that encapsulates what I am well on the road to becoming if I don’t catch myself and set course for higher ground.  If you haven’t seen this spot of advertising genius, give it a quick watch here:

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what I am trying not to become even though it’d be so much easier and so much damn funnier if I did.

The worst part is, some of this – most of this, actually, is entirely my fault!  I should have known better than to pick up a trip that had a 3-hour sit in JFK and a 3-hour sit in Syracuse on the same day.  Really, I should have known better.   And I should have run for the hills screaming bloody murder when my first customer interaction of said trip went as follows with a twenty-something hipster girl wearing no shoes, black spandex, a pink t-shirt and a torn orange moo-moo with wilted flowers in her hair:

Me: Good morning, welcome aboard.

(Customer freezes and stares at me blankly, not moving)

Me: Did you need help with something?

Customer: What do I do now?

Me: You sit.

Customer: Where?

Me: In your assigned seat.

Customer: How do I know where that is?!

*Let me just point out that this was asked with an exasperated sigh and arms flailing in the wind, as if she was expected to also explain to me the meaning of life while balancing on one foot and juggling seven oranges on a tight rope over the Grand Canyon.

Me (after looking at boarding pass): Your seat is 17D, it’s the window seat on your left side at row 17.

Customer: Where is row 17?

Me: It’s between 16 and 18.

Customer: Is it far from here?

Pardon me while I place my head into an overhead bin and attempt to slam the door shut approximately twenty times. Empathy, Ben, empathy. Breathe. Maybe she’s nervous.  Maybe she doesn’t fly much.  Maybe, just maybe, she never learned to count. These are all possibilities I’m pondering to give Lady Moo-Moo a pass when a middle-aged woman boards our Charlotte-bound flight and breaks my train of thought.

“Hi, good morning,” I say, noticing her denim Mickey Mouse hat and instantly wishing I had gotten a second cup of coffee.

“Yes, hi, hello, how are you?” she responds.  “May I have some water? I need to take an anti-diarrhea pill. I get awful stomach cramps when I fly.  I keep the pills right here just incase I get the poops,” she says, joyfully pointing to a black leather fanny pack slouching sideways off her figure and simultaneously giving me a thumbs-up with her other hand.

Let me go try that overhead bin door one more time…

This is going to be much harder than I thought.