Turn Off Your Device, B*tch.

I really can’t explain it.

In many ways, I’m a rule breaker. I like people who “think outside the box” and dogma makes me crazy.

I certainly like to think of myself as someone who thinks for themselves.

You get the picture.

Some things though I (surprisingly, not surprisingly) have no patience for. When I have no patience for someone or something I have no problem opening my mouth and saying so.

Also for some reason (fear of falling from the sky), I am very concerned with airplane safety. Where I might be into thinking for myself on the ground, three miles high I become a stringent follower of rules and precedent.

I make sure my carry-ons are the right size and that I stow them properly. I listen to how to inflate my floatable safety vest and I fret about whether I will be able to pull on the cord or be forced to blow into the tube when the time comes.

Long ago, a frequent-flier friend-of-mine passed on a travel secret. She said that she always counts the rows to the nearest safety exits both in front of and behind her.

It turns out that if the plane is on fire and smoke pours in, you’ll have to feel your way to the exit, possibly while having dropped to your hands and knees.

You’re welcome.

My pre-covid flight strategy used to involve mass quantities of alcohol. Keep in mind that people who are wasted and fall from tall heights tend to do better than their sober counterparts. Nevermind that sober folks tend to fall less often. Floppy is an asset when it comes to falling and let’s leave it at that.

Try as I might I can never really stop the thought of what falling from a plane might feel like. Maybe I should stop wondering and just jump but I will never ever parachute from a plane so I’m left just imagining it. And going down, I’d rather be tipsy.

Covid messed all that up. You can have water and a snack and maybe a soda but that’s it.

So now I fly before dawn in the hopes of sleeping through most of what would otherwise amount to fits of quiet terror mixed with stories I tell myself about who I might kiss if the plane decided to fall from the sky.

Yesterday, after a sleepy 5 a.m. flight into Midway, I turned into a Karen. I wasn’t tipsy. I was stone cold sober but I detected a threat to airplane security and I summoned my inner busy-body.

You know how you are supposed to keep your seatbelt fastened when you’re in your seat? You know how you can’t hang around the john at the back of the plane anymore?

Well…you are supposed to put your larger devices away prior to landing, too.

The woman across from me didnt heed the warning.

I don’t know what the point of this rule is but it’s a rule and airplane rules are important. Yes, true, I used to sit in the smoking section and chain smoke at the back of an airplane. For years I did this and now I can’t so much as flick a bic in the john.

But it’s a rule that you have to park your phone in airplane mode and you need to stow your bigger devices and you can’t smoke on the plane.

We had an all-male crew and that was a kick because – no drama- just a lot of crisp shirts, sarcasm and hair gel.

Ms. Laptop kept typing even though gay number one told her twice, nicely, to shut it down.

So I went and got a bee up my vagine.

I looked at her in her middle seat across the isle and asked her what her problem was. Hmmm?

She ignored me so I got louder. I said, “Are you an adult?”

She still ignored me but the guy next to me made gentle shushing noises intended to soothe and keep me from beating her with my inflight magazine.

So next I started to stare. I just did my best I-dare-you-not-to-notice-me glare and I didn’t blink. I may have appeared crazy because then she started telling me “Everything is fine” but I wasnt having it.

I told her it was NOT fine because she was violating international airspace law and why did she think she was so special anyway and I didn’t stop until she put away her laptop and took out her phone.

It was pretty seamless and part of me honestly did want to know what was so damn important as I watched her continue on her smaller, allowed device.

We landed safely but not before I sereptitiously got a quick snapshot.

I made sure to open my overhead carefully incase the contents shifted during flight. The neighbor who had gently shushed me offered to get my carry-on down.

We de-planed and I got on the moving sidewalk but I walked.

I’m all for breaking rules on the ground, but in the air I take no chances.

And neither should you.