The man looks at me as if I just kicked his puppy for a field goal. A comical mixture of anger and embarrassment crosses his face as he grasps for the words trying to come out of his mouth. “That was a bit rude, don’t you think?” he finally asks.
Even through my pill-induced state, I could feel the anger inside me build into a rage. A Stewardess sees my face beginning to change hue. “Is there a problem here?”
“HELL YES THERE’S A PROBLEM HERE!” I loom over the now mortified man most of the passengers in the coach section rubbernecking to see what’s going on. “STINKY HERE THINKS THAT JUST BECAUSE HE COMES FROM THE OLD COUNTRY HE HAS TO SMELL LIKE FERMENTED MANURE!”
“Now, Mr. McGwire, calm down,” she soothes to no avail. “If you like, we can switch your seat…”
“CALM DOWN YOUR ASS! YOU’RE NOT THE ONE BEING BATHED IN THIS GUYS PERSONAL SEASONINGS!”
I see the Air Marshal get to his feet out of the corner of my eye. He unlatches his tazer, his hand beside it like Wyatt Earp. “What seems to be the problem here?”
I go to try and get into the aisle, but Hans sucker punches me with an uppercut. Caught off guard but not knocked out, I belt him in the temple. I feel three little pin-pricks and a huge jolt just before everything goes blank.
