Joys of flying

The huge Texan next to me is sweating profusely, beads rolling down his fat neck and hairy arms. Even though common sense states this man should only take up the space allotted to him by Federal Aviation Administration standards, he's in the middle seat -- hogging both armrests and sitting with his legs wide like he's in the middle of a visit to the john. \nI'm stuck inside a Boeing 757 going from Detroit to Washington. Unfortunately we're still here in Detroit, despite boarding 40 minutes prior to departure. Sadly, even with early boarding, we aren't prepared to leave -- although the little door is closed, anyway. \nAs it turns out, our sturdy plane had a complete failure in its backup power systems. I don't know about the average flyer, but I personally like ALL the systems on the plane to be operational. The pilot tells us in his staticky, authoritative voice that we're going to fly without it (WHAT?), but we've lost our takeoff spot and we'll have to wait.\nWith the door closed and the sun beginning to beat down on the plane, our little tubular greenhouse starts getting hotter and hotter, cooking the seat-belted passengers inside, including the Texan beside me. Apparently, one of the main functions of our missing system is to run the air conditioning while the plane's engines are inactive. \nWe wait for 45 minutes until, finally, we get whatever nebulous clearance we need and take off. The flight is uncomfortable -- compounded by the Texan's reading light, which is curiously positioned to shine into my face. As the Texan goes to the bathroom for the second time, I catch a glimpse of what he's reading.\nIt's Ann Coulter, practicing the age-old tradition of fear mongering through religion. This time she's claiming that not having a religion means you're a "Godless liberal." Thanks, Ann, for trying to create an "us vs. them" struggle and dividing people through their differences. \nThe guy on the other side of the Texan sees me sneaking a peak at the book, and we exchange a loaded glance -- agreeing nonverbally that the guy between is us a big douche. The Texan confirms this by shouting at the flight attendant that he'd rather drink his own piss than Pepsi, and they should get Coke. \nAs we finally descend into Washington I breathe a sigh of relief, believing that I may, at last, get to part ways with my current company. Everything seems fine with our approach -- until the pilot sharply pulls the nose up and guns the engines. After the panic subsides, we learn that "the plane was not in a condition to land." I have no idea what that means, but it lowers my confidence in a death-free landing. The Texan is angry too, muttering about everything from "airplane makers" to the Democrats.\nCoasting towards imminent death, I can't help but laugh. After all this, I can only hope that the Texan dies first.