A couple of months ago, in April, I went to Guadalajara Mexico to visit my very dear friend Josadac (Jojo). I really enjoyed my visit. We explored the city and caught up. Essentially it was 8 days of us soaking up as much quality time as possible since we live so far from each other now. It was great but like all great things, my visit concluded and I headed back home and to life.
The day of my return trip I knew I would be faced with a grueling day of travel. It was during swine-flu mania and I was sure since I was traveling from Mexico I’d be faced with one hold up after another. However, to my surprise, other then being head up in Dallas for two hours I didn’t hit any major snags. That is, until one of the most awkward traveling experiences I have ever had happened on my last flight.
Like I mentioned, we were held up in Dallas for two hours because of a thunder storm. Everyone was irate. Personally, I hate turbulence. I was more then happy to wait for it to pass. Give me clear skies. I’ll wait all night. We were finally given clearance to board, and like animals, everyone rushed to get on the plane. I rolled my eyes and waited for the stampede to clear and I sat back down. As soon as I felt the line had gone down I began to board the plane. Now I should say that whenever I travel I make prior arrangements to always get the aisle seat. I am prone to motion sickness and middle/window seats do nothing but excite my condition. So on my last flight, tired, and ready to go home, I worked my way down the aisle to find a young lady sitting in my seat hold the hand of the young man next to her. They must have been about 19-21 years old, wearing pajamas (pajama travelers are one of my biggest pet peeves, but that is a whole ‘nother blog) and giggling about some inside joke.
“Um,” I interrupt, “You are in my seat.”
The young couple shoots glances at each other and although I was only addressing the girl, her boyfriend speaks on her behalf.
“She was, um, wondering if you would trade seats with her.”
Open to hearing them out I respond with, “What seat do you have?”
“30b.”
First of all, “30” is in the back of the plane, which will not do. It is loud back there and people stand around you waiting to use the restroom. No. Second, “b”, as in the middle of “a” and “c”, is a middle seat and I can’t do middle, especially since I went out of my way to make arrangements for the aisle seat.
“Mmm, actually I do…”
In a flash the girl’s sweet and coy disposition turns to fury. She snaps her neck at the young man and yells, “See Kevin! I told you she wouldn’t! You are such an asshole! You are such a fucking asshole! Thanks a lot!” Totally making a scene, she grabs her things and storms off to the back of the bus and with an unspoken sense of duty Kevin follows behind her. Now here I am, awkwardly waiting for him to return since I can’t sit down until he does. He returns and sits down in the middle seat and I feel I should say something.
“I am really sorry. I get motion sickness and I have to sit in the aisle.”
“No, no, no. You don’t need to apologize.”
“You know, just because you’re a man that doesn’t mean you’re not in an abusive relationship,” I half joke with a nervous laugh. He looks at me and regards my statement as fact and turns away.
We settle in. I take out my magazine and wait for our take off. I hear them seal the door, the seat belt sign lights up, and we begin to move to the runway. Out of no where the girlfriend returns to our seat and says, “Obviously, no one else is boarding the plane. There isn’t anyone seating next to me. You can sit next to me now.” Her tone is more demand then request. Kevin looks at her, rolls his eyes, and settles deeper into his seat. Of course I am in the middle and I am frantically flipping through my magazine in an effort to escape from this awkward moment. She storms off and takes her seat.
The rest of my flight back home was pretty uneventful, but it got me thinking. How would that scenehave played out had it been a woman who was cussed out? Do we as society have more tolerance seeing a man in an abusive relationship?
I have to say this: at anytime a person disrespects you, belittles you, calls you names, and just plain sucks the life out of you, you are in an abusive relationship.
Abusive. Take the glorified connotation out of that word. Don’t think that just because you don’t live like Julia Roberts in Sleeping with the Enemy, that you are in a healthy relationship. The person you are coupled with should support you and highlight your life. Not weight you down with their oppressive demeanor.
I know I am not the relationship guru. All my relationships have ended disastrously. I would just like us all collectively agree to treat our partners with respect. Like I have always said, “You’ll be my king if you treat me like a Queen.”
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