Whew, this day! I leave the house at 2:30 am to drive an hour to the airport to catch a 5:30 flight. I am pleasantly surprised that the airport shuttle driver is at my car almost immediately. He insists that I allow him to carry my bags. He is cheerful and it is contagious.

I waltz into the terminal and immediately deflate when I see the crowd. There is a ridiculously long tsa line for 3:45 in the morning. This time of year the lines are filled with vacationers who are excited. They are talking loudly, and seemingly have no understanding of airport protocols. Three older men in front of me seem baffled that they are asked to remove their belts at the security check point. Why do they seem shocked? The combined metal from their buckles could be molded into a good size statue. The bald one pulls his belt off with the flair of Indiana Jones cracking his bullwhip. He almost takes off my nose.

The airport makes for a noisy and most annoying morning. I like quiet contemplation and instead it is a circus. To compensate, I smile and talk to small children who are cranky because it is way too early for any of us to be up. And that is when I notice, not one, not two, not three, but four fathers sprawled out in the waiting area seats like they are on their personal sofas. They play on their phones and growl at their wives. The poor women try to entertain babies and chase toddlers with absolutely no help. And to add insult to injury….endless and careless, oblivious, manspread.

These dudes are taking up not only their own seats but also half of their wive’s seats and also half of whomever’s seat is unlucky enough to be sitting on the other side of them. Mustache man flings back an arm so he can hold his phone up higher. It forces his wife sideways. She is already sitting perched on the edge of a chair like a bird ready to be pushed out of the nest. She has a child on her lap trying to bottle feed, while she hunches over playing cars with the three year old on the floor at her feet. She has a bag strapped to her back, a bottle under her chin, and their tickets between her teeth. Sweat pants complains that his wife is letting junior be too noisy. Hey, a guy needs his sports center at 4:00 am. Am I right? She comforts both with the same soothing tones. It is too much for me, even if it is not my business.

I see the space taken and the space ceded. I see the mom pulling the wagon and the bags with one hand and juggling a baby with the other. Dad rushes to a seat and leaves them behind. He chooses a spot that is impossible to navigate with a wagon and all the baby gear. I see him lay down with hands behind his head and eyes closed while mom stacks and restacks the bags and repositions the wagon in a quiet corner. Both her babies apparently need their rest.

Trying to unsee what is transpiring around me, I do some quiet computer work. I forget everything but email. Boarding time comes and goes. No explanation is offered for the delay. The crowd gets restless. Crew members begin deplaning. No explanations. People line up. We are told boarding is delayed and to wait. We wait and wait some more. Lines grow longer. No explanations.

Crew seem unconcerned that we are a half hour past boarding. There is no word to the passengers about what is happening. They gate agents and pilots laugh and talk amongst themselves. The passengers are not laughing. There is actual chaos when we reach a point of no return. Over half the plane needs to be rebooked. We cannot make our connecting flights. We still have no explanations.

I have never seen an airline make flight changes in order, based on destination, but that is the their plan. We are told to wait until our city is called. They call Honolulu, Seattle, Boise. We wait. I won’t say patiently. That would be a lie. But we are somewhat orderly…..until…The bro boys flood the counter. Knocking between people with their bags, the tech team rushes forth. Elbows out they crash through the line. This ensures that everyone sees they are on the phone with customer support, that they are loudly complaining that their city has not been called, and that they demand recourse. Their angrily towed roller boards (wheeled suitcases) ram into people unlucky enough to be caught in their wake. The bros loudly proclaim that there are five of them traveling to an important project together and need priority.

Never mind that there are fifty people who are headed somewhere that also need to be rerouted. Forty-five of us are in line ahead of them, at least we were until their elbow invasion. All fifty of us have missed our connection. Five grown men are postering and blustering like overgrown toddlers. The entire rebooking process shuts down while the staff deals with the tantrum. Brocentric meltdown: Eventually they calm and are sent back in line where they call airline help lines, threaten, flatter and beg.

Eventually, I am rebooked on another flight. It is two hours past when I should have left. I am physically and emotionally exhausted. The new flight is also delayed by fifteen minutes. I am quietly dealing with self regulation. Breath in … Breath out…

I must look like I want to talk (I don’t). A middle age man decides that he should entertain me with everything he knows about life. I try to be polite. I smile and nod. I pretend to read. I look at my phone until…. Mansplaining. The guy wants to tell me how to use the app on my phone. He wants to tell me how to get the best deal on phones and on planes. He wants to tell me why his backpack is better. He wants to tell me how to dress for a trip. Seriously…..On and on and on. I am well and truly exhausted. I may snap. I just need on the plane and away from mansplaining.

I sigh when I am seated. Maybe things are looking up. Who cares if the baggage tracker is telling me my bags were loaded to San Diego when I am going to San Jose? Who cares if the giant man in front of me sits down by throwing himself against his seat at full force and sliding down the seat back? Surely if the seat snaps and injures me, they will give me a free flight, right? I can’t worry about that. It is 8:00 am and I have been up for 7 hours already.

I just want to sleep for a few hours. I am somehow seated in the last row of the plane due to the unexpected rerouting. My seat does not recline, but the giant man’s does. I’m pretty sure his seat isn’t ever supposed to lean back that far. I think I will just close my eyes. It is not as obnoxious if I can’t see it.

I have my eyes blissfully closed and then I hear it. The teenager in the window seat is going to be sick. The gags are unmistakable. We quickly rummage for the little white sick bags in the seat pockets. The gagging doesn’t stop. The girl is young, scared and very polite. She is as white as a sheet and ready to cry.

I am in the last row aisle seat so I have a direct sight line to the flight crew. I tell them what is happening. The attendant doesn’t even look up from his phone. I unbuckle and walk into the galley. He tells me we haven’t reached altitude and to sit back down. I tell him the whole back of the plane is about to be a hazmat recovery scene if he can’t come up with more sick bags and that I would gladly trade him seats if he would like to do something about it. He hands me a trash bag. A literal trash bag. I get towels from the toilet.

The girl’s sickness goes on for over two hours. I assist when I can. She gets up, sits down, gets sick, and tries to nap in between. Her mother is panicking. Dad is in another row and doesn’t bother to ask what might be happening. Another flight attendant brings wet wipes and a cool compress. I am handing out sick bags and wet paper towels while rethinking my life choices. As a retired school administrator, I am well equipped to handle a teenage crisis. Somehow we arrive at airport number two. I wish the family well and make a hasty exit.

I have to walk a long way to my connection. I have twenty minutes to cross the airport. I try to walk on the moving conveyors to speed my trip. Theoretically, I can go faster. Oh wait….. At least three old guys are standing randomly in the middle of the walk way looking at their phones. Excuse me. A smile and slight movement to stand to the side. I can work with that. Excuse me. Stink eye and grumble. I can work with that. Excuse me. No acknowledgment. Excuse me. Not happening. I wait (there is no other choice), standing behind a guy who is blocking the walkway. He is a human wall with a bag on either side blocking the entire moving walkway…..making it a stand way.

When the conveyor ends, he immediately stops and sets his bags down to check his phone for his gate number. I say a quick prayer and leap over his bags (it is a lucky and rare day that I am wearing sneakers). He looks up surprised as if he couldn’t imagine where I came from. He then sees the other old guys coming toward him on the conveyor. He kicks his bags out of the way to make a path for the approaching people. Unfortunately he kicked them into me… but at least he is trying…. Bless his heart.

I jog on and make my final connecting flight. I settle in. There is an open middle seat and I have earphones. Hurray! Except….the guy in the window seat is asleep with mouth ajar. So what if he snores. I have headphones. A few minutes later, his leg is somehow stretched across the middle space and…. his toe is touching my toe. Of all of the things that have happened today, this is minor. This is NOT an issue…..except it is all I can think about. Manspread! Ahhhhhh!

KEEP your toe to yourself. You, you, you manspreader! Hey guy across the aisle, you are not riding a horse right now. Close your legs and give the woman sitting by you some room, manspreader!Dude in front of me, your elbows have probably cracked your seat mates ribs the way you keep stretching. She does not want your arms on her, manspreader! Guy. I don’t want to see you crack your knuckles in my face. manspreader! Bro…. I don’t care about your next big deal. I know we have WiFi, make your call in an inside voice. Mansplainer! My man…. I am holding on by a thread here. Get some headphones, I don’t want to listen to your video game. I need my space……

I have to get off of this plane. I can’t unsee it. I can’t unhear it. I can’t take one more toe tap or one more elbow.

The pilot announces we are arriving early. Thank you, God. Crisis averted. Now hopefully I won’t have to spend the next hour listening to someone tell me why my bags are vacationing in San Diego while I am working in San Jose.

I stand up full of hope. Whack! A backpack hits me in the face and a brief case takes out my knees. The old guy one row up and across the aisle stands up abruptly. He tosses his bags behind him, because he is ready to go….even though the aisle is already full of people standing, he claims his space. He is the manosphere.

I fall backwards and straddle the arm of my seat to keep upright. I catch the eye of the man behind me. He winces. He saw it. Maybe for the first time. He can’t unsee it. He keeps looking at Mr Oblivious and looking at me. He is overwhelmed. Manspread has that effect on people.

Eventually, I find myself at the hotel. I have decompressed. My bags have made their way to San Jose along with my swimsuit. They are a few hours late but we are happily reunited. My missed meetings are forgotten. Life is good. I celebrate by taking a dip in the hot tub.

I am relaxed with my eyes closed. The jets feel great on my back. A large man pushing a walker makes his way over. He lowers himself into the water beside me. I move to make room. He stretches out his arms along the sides. I make more room. He closes his eyes and puts in earphones. At least they cover the ear hair. Eww. Why did I notice that? I close my eyes and then I hear it. He is singing…badly…..loudly to the music in his earbuds. I decide I have had quite enough…..manspread has that effect on me.