You think I’m “Nuts!” I think I’m “Differently Advantaged.”

My airborne happy space. Why must it be off limits to me?

That I possess an avid interest in congregating near the forward lavatory of commercial jetliners cannot be denied. And because one person does not constitute a congregation, my peculiarity becomes all the more cultish. This quirk, this foible, this idiosyncrasy of deriving immense gratification in Proximal Flight Deck Loitering has been discouraged by flight attendants and Air Marshalls alike. But like my life coach always says, “There’s nothing I can do for you David. Not now. Not ever. Oh yeah, and stop with that airplane loitering sh*t.”  

Like most people with a socially unwelcomed interest, it came to me uninvited – I was born this way. So I like to loiter at the front of planes. So big deal. I know I’m harmless. Why should I have to convince you? Can’t you look into my soul and see that I’m not nuts. I’m just differently advantaged? Besides, my supposed trespass doesn’t pose a danger to anyone. And anyway aren’t Christians supposed to Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Well forgive away, and start with me. “I accept your forgiveness.”


The bathroom’s location is incidental to my interest in congregating at the front of an airplane. To me this area is simply a happening spot where the action is. There’s a galley with stewardesses (I think they’re called something else now). The pilots are nearby and there are lots of cool doors to open. But in the end it’s all about the people. The caliber of people at the front of the plane is really first class. Why would I not want to be up there? I know. You say, “Couldn’t you be less of a nuisance and have a similar experience in the back of the plane?”

The answer is, “No. Who do I look like –  Rosa Parks?”


And while I realize my in-flight behavior is aerially disobedient and powder-room impolitic; I can’t help it. I like to act out. And although I’ve been told I shouldn’t list “Loitering near the forward lavatory of aircraft” on my resume, I do list it because this accomplishment only tends to burnish my credentials when laid against “Charged with, but not convicted of, jury tampering.” And so what if I was expelled from an orphanage – at the age of 33. I mean my parents had been deceased for years and I needed a little nurturing. I was a paying customer. Apparently membership is not based on money or need, but more on age – discriminatory bastards.  I’ll leave those judgments to bureaucratic curmudgeons who place elderly orphans like me into arbitrary categories: “Worthy of a restraining order.” 


Living the Life Destined for Me

Wait – I have a destiny? That sounds like trouble. Any time you think you have a God-given destiny to fulfill, instead of just a life to lead, that’s a recipe for disaster – for over-indulgence in the name of god. I mean we may forgive a few trespasses, but who’s gonna forgive indulgences. Truly. I mean we barely tolerate Celine Dion.


It is often said by people with fewer kidney stones than me that you should live life like someone left the gate open. A noble sentiment to be sure. But I choose to live life like someone left the toilet seat up. It’s a subtle distinction, but one that’s always provided me with a portal to another universe. One that says to me, “Waste not. Want not.” An adjunct to the “Toilet Seat Up Truism” is the “You should dance like nobody’s watching corollary.” And I find great joy in practicing this corollary just as long as no one is actually watching me when I dance. We all make choices and these are the choices that have been made for me. It’s not so much my destiny, as it is my karma. There’s that overused word again – my.                                             


I’m a staunch First Amendment supporter. I believe in freedom of assembly. Even if it’s at the front of airplanes. And even if I’m the only one being assembled. To get it together, you’ve got to put it together and assembling myself at the front of a plane allows me to do that.        


And as I close this semi-confessional window on a guy playing the game of life with a 48-card deck, I’m reminded what Jesus said was the key to rediscovering one’s divine self: “To enter the kingdom of heaven one must become child-like again.” And it’s true. I’m just trying to get a head start on it and that’s what accounts for these little pieces I write. And yet I’m a guy who also finds Silly Putty sobering – go figure. Oh well, somewhere, someone has left a toilet seat up revealing an escape hatch to another dimension. I mean one lid closes, another lid opens. So I’ll be fine. It’s you that I worry about – especially if you’re still reading this. Never mind what I was thinking. What were you thinking?


I do know one thing that’s true whether you’re mainstream or differently advantaged:

There is a part of us that is impervious to the passions of life. And then there’s the part of us that’s all too pervious to passion. In fact I’m pervious to any number of neurotic appeals. That’s just the nature of the beast. So if you’re ever flying first class and notice someone clogging the galley way, maybe it’s me loitering in a plane near you. How else am I going to earn my FLMs – Frequent Loiter Miles? 

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