So. I've gathered some new intel. Turns out blondie is scared of flying. Now it might seem sadistic to gain pleasure from other people's pain, but it makes me smile to know I have something to hold over him. It takes a moment for my brain to fully register that train of thought. 

     Am I really so immature that I will sink to laughing at strangers who are scared of flying?

     Yeah.

     On the other hand, I barely know him. To judge him for being scared of flying would be unfair. Oh wait... what did he just do? That's right. Judge me. So, blonde prick, I dub thee pineapple. Here's a label to slap on yourself. Together we can all live happily in Grocery Land. Yeah right. 

     I press even further to the right, so that my right side is practically spilling over the arm rest and into the aisles. I want to be as far away from him as possible while still managing to act disdainful. I will tell you, it's rather hard to master.

     Eventually, the plane levels off, and blondie unclenches his hand from the arm rest he's been hogging for the past fifteen minutes. I give a bitchy quirk of my lips as I pointedly slap my hand down onto it. It's my turn to invade his space. The PA system crackles overhead:

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking...