President Obama Spares My Wrath

Heidi Fleiss sat next to me in the middle seat on the plane home from Chicago; or rather, the puddle jump second leg from Chicago.  She boarded minutes before takeoff in Vegas.  She was accompanied by a diminutive man.  She herself wore 3 inch flip flops and a leather coat that reeked of cigarette smoke.  She stuffed the little guy's bag under the seat across the aisle that she wasn't sitting in.  She cracked a new Popular Mechanics magazine and tore out all the subscription cards and threw them on the floor.  She spoke of her father a lot.  She kept her iPhone on the whole flight.  She checked the internet.  She slammed down the shade to the window.  She kept flinging her hair.  She and the young man across the aisle, who clearly recognized her, made eyes at each other; he kept waving his size 14s at her.  She told the flight attendant she didn't want anything to drink by waving her away.  She sat comfortably in her seat like neither I nor her diminutive friend were there.

She's a predatory sort with bad manners and lovely eyes.

I worried briefly that something catastrophic would happen to this flight, because in the scheme of divine providence and chaos theory, I suspect Heidi Fleiss is going to die bloody. I imagined the 11:00 news of the plane's destruction notable because Heidi Fleiss was on it...and then a brief retrospective of her exploits of keeping and building whorehouses, including a sound bite from Charlie Sheen.  Nothing, of course, about the woman who sat next to her watching her spin her environment to suit only her.

When she nearly stepped on my laptop to deplane, my instinct to snarl "Hold up, you selfish ill-mannered pimp, let me get MY stuff," just wasn't there.  Instead I said, "Just a minute, young lady, I need to get my laptop."  She said "Oh, sorry," and waited.

This inauguration made me so happy, even flying home three days after next to a thoroughly unpleasant young woman couldn't ruin it for me.