This story dates from last June. I was headed to San Diego for a conference. The night before, I went out for some drinks with a coworker who would also be there. A few drinks turned into us pretty much closing down the bar. When I woke up at 6:30 later that morning, I actually felt great - I figured I must have drunk my way through the hangover! This was of course a very stupid thought, and as the morning dragged on through getting to the airport, getting through security, and waiting at the gate, my head decided I am an idiot and deserve to be punished. It was not wrong.
I made my way through the plane to my row, where I was to be seated in the window (a personal preference). As I approached my row, I saw a woman sitting in the middle seat, with her belongings on my seat. I politely said that it was my seat and waited for her to move them. She let out an overly-large sigh, then laboriously moved her things onto her lap. She then sat there. And sat. I asked her if she would mind letting me by, and she said the oddest thing: “Go over me.”
Now at first, I assumed that this was my fault. I assumed that in my awful, terrible hangover, I had forgotten how people board cramped seats and that I was wrong for assuming she would and should get up to let me in. But then I remembered, I’m an idiot. So I assumed she had some sort of physical disability which made standing and sitting difficult or painful for her, and rather than embarrass her I did as she requested, I went over her. Shortly before takeoff, she stood up and hollered at her husband, who was in the back of the plane with their two children: “I don’t know why you couldn’t get us seats together! Honestly, this is absurd, why didn’t you?!”
Lady, I got an idea why. I didn’t really care about her constantly reshuffling things or her armrest-hogging. It did bum me out when her daughter came up to our row with a cheese and cracker platter and asker her mom if she wanted some and the lady simply said “No.” Eventually, I was able to fall asleep. For those who don’t drink, there is a phenomenon called the beer shits. After a night of heavy drinking, you will often have a large amount of gas (and other things which go along with it) the next day. About halfway through out flight, I felt this coming on, and I decided I had no choice but to go. I asked her if I could please get out. The gentleman in the aisle seat immediately got out, but she again said: “Go over me.”
Now by this point, I was pretty irritable. I had an awful headache, my stomach was doing somersaults, and I was about to blow an O-ring, and this miserable bitch wanted me to go over her? On a moving plane? Fine, I would. I swung my right leg over her, then put my ass over her face, nearly touching. A slight tremble in the flight, and I released a full-on, seemingly never ending fart, a cloud of noxious gas which should have had me arrested for war crimes. I let the whole thing go. Afterwards, I turned, made full eye contact, and said “Sorry. Turbulence.” Everyone around me was fully and truly disgusted, and to them I am still so sorry, but I did what I did for the greater good.
When I got back from the bathroom, she got up to let me in.