We hadn’t even left Juan Santamaria airport in Costa Rica, for our 1st border run since moving here, before being reintroduced to the sound and feel of our homeland. A passenger, we will call him Richard, Dick for brevity, was a shining example of the term Ugly American. Dick started his journey by showing up to this 8am San Jose to Dallas jaunt drunk and pissed or pissed and pissed if you are from across the pond.
Since Jen and I were traveling light – with only a small carry on, we were able to board with the first group despite having seats at the very rear of the aircraft – excellent seats to enjoy the show. Dick begins his adventure by trying to find his seat. His seat, mind you, is not his assigned seat rather; it is a seat of his choosing on the aisle mid-way through the cabin. I should mention that Dick, I don’t know how, has a wife in tow. Upon choosing his seat Dick attempts to place his, too big to fit, oversized luggage in the overhead compartment. He shoves and shoves and his alcohol-taxed mind encourages him to repeatedly slam his fist into the poor piece of luggage until it finally finds its home. Face red, Dick plops down in his seat and his wife follows . This is directly followed by the woman in the seat next to the window telling them that they are in the wrong seats.
Dick and wife meander towards the back, near our seats, and Dick – who has calmed down from his luggage workout, starts talking loudly to the airline stewardess and mentions that he, Dick, was looking for a special seat. The stewardess states that the flight is pretty full and Dick would do best to wait until everyone has boarded to find an open seat that might better fit his needs than his assigned seat. This doesn’t dissuade Dick in the least and he takes up residence in the seat directly in front of me – for about a minute when he is kicked out again. “See, I told you” says the flight attendant; Dick finds his assigned seat.
Once all occupants have boarded the flight, Dick finds an open seat, away from his wife (I am sure she is grateful), in the row of seats right next to ours and moves to it. After ordering a cocktail Dick starts chatting up the woman sitting in the aisle seat next to me and they quickly find something in common, lord help me, and they chat about work topics for the entire flight.
Once we arrived and made our way through customs we went outside to wait for our ride. The first thing I notice is the sound of a car horn blaring. Not the friendly toot of the bus driver on my route, in essence, saying, “I know you, how ya doing”. But more of the ugly American saying, “get out of my way…asshole”.
Good to be back home…?