Every summer my family takes a vacation. Now that we (the kids) have moved out of the house and live in difference cities/states we just usually meet up at our vacation spot.  For the past 6 or 7 years I have had to fly from Nashville to Aruba (where we have been going for most of my life) by myself.

I dread this every year. I’ll tell you why…not because I have a fear of crashing and burning and not knowing anyone, not because I get completely bored sitting in the same seat for four hours (what dumbass decided to cut the movie budget?), not because I get motion sickness…no, none of these…I dread these flights so much because of……the Honeymooners!

Every freaking time I get stuck beside some newly married man and woman (congrats, yay, you’re on your honeymoon). Two of them, one of me….three seats, it sucks! It’s not that I have a huge problem with PDA, but when I’m crammed next to you, please do not continue to do that. It makes me seriously uncomfortable.  I have begun to automatically pick the aisle seat so I don’t have to interrupt every time I need to pee (this is a lot because I have been chugging the tiny bottles of alcohol to get me through the flight).

“Excuse me, could you come up for air so I can use the bathroom? Thanks.”

The flights are the worst part of my vacation, and they are usually at 6am, at that hour I need a coffee IV drip and a sign on my forehead that says, Do Not Talk to Me. But low and behold, nine out of ten newly married women are so excited to be going to Aruba on their honeymoon they will ignore all signs and continue to give me the third degree. Oh, and I especially love the ones who have never flown before…ten times the excitement!

“Could I please have two more bottles of vodka? Actually, could I just start a tab?”