We know (we KNOW) that I am a picky traveller. We know that I have my routine, and I like to follow that routine. We know that I like people to follow the rules when travelling, stay in their lanes, stay in line, don't cut in line, wait their turn, keep their distance, and, good lord walk the extra two feet to walk behind me instead of cutting across the line in front of me. Just two more feet and you can walk in the GIANT SPACE BEHIND ME.
Besides that, you know what? During a pandemic, keeping one's distance is ESPECIALLY IMPORTANT.
Yeah, so, my routine at this airport is to arrive close to the C gates, head to the Starbucks, pick up a travelling drink and sandwich, then head off to my gate. The pandemic thwarts that plan a bit, in that I need to find a place to eat that is away from others, and that I want and need to keep a larger distance.
Which means, of course, every person and their brother will walk in front of me instead of behind me to cross the line. I counted this time. Zero people crossed the line in front of the guy in front of me, no one walked behind me, and everyone who crossed the line cut in front of me, even when the shortest distance was behind me. To stop the crossing, I would have needed to move closer to the people in front of me.
To my incredible frustration, my moving one step forward meant that the woman behind me would move two steps forward, closer to me each time.
Yes, Karen, you should stop moving closer to me.
I mean, aside from the dicknosing that she's doing, if she thinks the 24" distance she's standing is the 72" recommended distance between people, it's no wonder her husband thinks he has a 12" dick. [Narrator: "It's four inches."]
I had checked my bags for this flight, as I have road trip clothes and mountaineering clothes, along with the road trip food and camping items. Those were all heading to the plane's underside. With me, I had my work laptop and personal laptop and other electronics that I normally carry when I'm working remotely for months. Yes, I had two bags with me, just not the ones that I would roll on the ground, not ones I wanted even to touch the ground.
But needs must.
Glaring didn't stop the woman from creeping up on me. The bag would have to do.
Did I mention (yes, yes, I did) I like my personal space?
The flight wasn't much better, but at least my expectations were set: middle seats are open, expect to sit near someone either across the aisle or at the window seat.
The plan is arrive, gather my baggage, Lyft to the Oliphants, lunch with Claire and Matthew, hop in my car, gas up, drive to Seattle, pick up my rental gear, pick up my REI order, drive to Sedro Wooley, check into the hotel and sleep.