Parachuting Babies

There I was, row 30-something, thinking about how long of a journey it would be to exit the fucking plane in four hours, awkwardly positioned in my seat as to not bump the jerk off next to me, who didn't feel the same consideration toward me, so my left rib is now very much acquainted with the prick's elbow... I saw more people coming down the narrow aisle from the entrance of the airplane, making their way to their seats, taking their sweet fucking time to put away their unattractive flowered carry on bags, and take their seats like we were at a movie theater... making our time become later than it should have been. I saw a young woman with her baby board the plane, and if you recall from a previous post, my plan is to conceive five children (with my wife, the others I don't plan on actually meeting...) and I know I will probably love them when they exist, but since I am nineteen now, the idea of a little baby makes me want to put a knife down my throat and my hand in the garbage disposal. The woman was passing rows up, making me very nervous as to who would occupy the aisle seat directly across from me. I prayed, to whoever was listening to me, that this woman would find refuge in a seat much further up from where I was.

Well, since karma is a bitch(?), and I deserve this unfortunate pain, the formerly impregnated broad sat right where I didn't want her to, and the little baby girl was propped up on her lap. Some people in the surrounding seats were killing themselves over this precious little child, with these annoying gushy eyes and stares that I didn't feel I was getting, and I was much more interesting than this drooling mess of life. And even if that isn't true, which we all know it is not, it was still rather fucking annoying. Maybe I just don't have the appreciation for this new life that this woman and some guy who drinks a lot now created once upon a time... And the dad wasn't there. But, just to deny your suspicions, they were white. He must be busy. It's not like he left or anything. So, there I was, watching this woman and her baby... her quiet baby... at the moment.

A woman in a nearby seat asked how old the baby was. The "mom" responded, 14 or 15 months. Okay, I have met many new mothers and heard them rant about how precious their fucking offspring is, and, most times, they have their age to an exact minute... but this bitch has certainly made me consider that she may be a kidnapper, because not knowing the age of your baby makes you look like a very inattentive parent, not that it even matters, but that will probably lead to your young daughter's early fascination with cock, and in a short sixteen years, you will be observing her with a little baby, and you will know exactly how I felt on October 5th, examining you and your little fucking sperm creation bouncing on your damn lap. Then the baby started crying, screaming, laughing... like she was watching some fucking television series that I had no interest in viewing. I figured the little twit would cry when we took off, and I would respect it, but no, this one had to have her soap opera moment the entire fucking plane ride... which got me thinking...

Wouldn't it be a beautiful invention to create parachutes for babies? I mean, we're sitting there on the flight, surrounded by people who we don't know, trying to listen to our iPods, but we just can't, and the whole time we have to deal with the caffeinated flight attendants whose smiles make me want to jump with the babies, only my parachute doesn't exist. So, picture that, you're trying to relax on this already nerve-wracking moment, looking out for Islam extremists, getting ready to tackle any terrorist in sight, and there's a fucking baby in your area, expressing their feelings through loud awful moans and tears. Strap them up to their parachute, and drop them down to their destination below. Not only will we not have to hear them cry, but they will get a nice adrenaline experience on their flight down. As Lisa Lampanelli once said, "I'll give you something to cry about."

So, now you think I am some sadistic baby killer. I'm not, if you were wondering, but babies certainly provide the perfect amount of birth control to people. Sometimes, if the moment is right, or wrong, I suppose, this situation can make an ultra-conservative go gung-ho for abortion. Babies are cute and all, to specific people, and today, with a few hours of sleep and a small amount of anxiety, I was not in the mood for some cry baby bitch trying to communicate with their god awful sounds. Maybe babies are the perfect example of the difficulties of communication... like speaking to a Mexican who doesn't know English, and I am certainly fucked for the lack of attention I gave to my Spanish classes in high school. But, I realize, I once was that annoying little baby, pissing off emo-teenagers and old businessmen who never really gave a fuck about their children, and then I try to relax a bit and be more understanding of the whole thing, for now I am a nineteen year old with just a knife in my throat and one hand in the garbage disposal.