The Melody of the Nose

~My Scentiments~

decade-old books in dusty libraries

the first burn of the heater in winter

candy-coated concession stands in highschool

my empty apartment after a long trip

Nana's sweet potatoe pie

Dale & Thomas popcorn in Boston

chocolate biscotti

Christmas tree farms

strawberry lemonade from the Cheesecake Factory

pink saltwater taffy

the wind through my windows on a cold night

housefuls of people at the holidays

my kitty's fur

Zachariah's skin

the lyric jacket of a new cd

fresh cotton candy

new leather boots

early morning fog

new airplanes

Daisy by Marc Jacobs

burnt-black marshmallows

lumber section of hardware stores

the ocean at sunrise

old Victorian homes

snuffed candles

the Apple Barn in Gatlinburg

erasers

flavored honey

ranch Corn-Nuts

sweat of a man after a hard day's work

creek beds

warm pools in the summer

sour kraut

freshly torn green leaves

crushed blackberries

gasoline

sizzling bacon

pumpkin spice lattes

sharpies

my loved ones

new pencils

medicated Blistex

Macy's department store

thrift stores

wrapping paper

Barq's root beer

horehound candy

backstage at the theatre

John Paul Gaultier for men

cardboard boxes

cloves

vanilla flavoring

pecan pie in the oven

first autumn breeze

new dollar bills

Seattle's waterfront

dusty barns

dryer sheets

wind before a storm

cold and crisp bed sheets

fishy scent of the lake

hazelnut creamer

cinnamon graham crackers

How To Turn Yourself Off

How To Turn Yourself Off

A Virgin's Guide to Resisting Temptationby: Meri Allyn (My Pseudonym)

Not an article you'd expect to see in Cosmo, huh? But tell me, you fellow virgins, aren't you tired of all the columns and books and websites and movies torturing us with tactics which make us burn with sexual desire, the very thing we are trying to resist? I am here to say it's time for us to have a voice in a sex-soaked society.
And why shouldn't we? We are adults who have chosen to remain sexless, not to mention insanely frustrated, depressed, uptight, horny...oh, sorry. I am here to help you through the fight, ladies, as that beautiful boy (or man, although he'd have to be almost on his deathbed to achieve that title nowadays) you've been waiting to get a date with FINALLY asks you to dinner.
After you squeal with excitement, call every girl in your phone book, obsess over your hair, picture your outfit down to every detail - even though the date is a week away - and over-analyze the exact reason why he asked you out in the first place, your mind inevitably floats to the night, the conversation, his lips, the kiss...how far will you go? The following is a list of techniques I've listed in the most effective order and deployment. Read carefully to be fully prepared for the date night that haunts your horizon.

Date Night

First Scenario:
It's a cold night, right after dinner, and you've come back to his place for "dessert." Caution should immediately be employed should he utter this phrase. Dessert is sometimes used as a euphemism for, well, YOU.
As I said before, the night is still innocent. You couldn't be more happy as you stand at the frosted window, watching gently falling snowflakes, taking in the warmth of the crackling fire on the hearth. He brings you his "made from scratch" hot cocoa. Okay, so you saw the empty Swiss Miss packet in the trash. He's trying, at least.
You sip the hot chocolate and in a moment of pure movie magic, he quickly laughs and licks the marshmallow cream from the tip of your nose...he gets that look in his eye and. Oh. No.
Oh YES! This is likely the response your entire body has the moment his lips gently touch your cheek. A peck, nothing more. You start to relax. Perhaps it ends there? But oh no. Here come his hands. A soft, light brush up the side of your bare arm; it leaves your skin hotter than the flames from the hearth. You see his Adam's Apple bob and his breath slowly warms the air near your face.
This is when you must act FAST. I like to call this technique The Knuckle Biter. It can be the easiest to employ; however it does take some discretion as fingers and mouths together can have quite the opposite effect if not properly done while attempting this trick.
Look into his eye with a coy glance, just so he has the impression that you are flirting with him and not rejecting him outright. You are, of course, but this is a sensitive time in the new romance. One must learn to play the game expertly. As you turn your back to him, quickly bite the knuckles of your free hand as hard as possible without breaking the skin. The purpose is, although frustrating, to cause enough pain so that your only focus will be hurrying to the kitchen for ice to place on your wound, thereby stalling for quite a bit of time. This works perfectly if indeed there IS hot chocolate involved. Pretend to spill it on yourself to save an awkward explanation. While you're applying the ice, search for the most unromantic topic to discuss, such as...warm beaches in the moonli...oh, right.
NASCAR, baby! Or anything involving cars will likely divert his attention. It's good to have a pre-made list of boring topics - to you, of course - for times like these.

Second Scenario:
It's a bit later in the evening, and you're wiping your eyes (for the thirtieth time) as you watch The Notebook. My advice is that you DO NOT watch this on your first date. Or the first few dates. However, it seems to be an epidemic, so if you just can't stop yourself, at least refrain from talking about soul mates, marriage, and kids the minute the credits begin rolling. This guy does have points, though, if he is willing to watch the most notorious romance movie/chick flick in modern history with you.
You glance at him on the other end of the sofa, laughing at yourself for your tears. He grins at you...and CRAP! Your heart starts fluttering again. You feel a heat deep in your stomach and you watch with wide eyes as he inevitably begins moving to your end of the couch. You draw your knees to your chest.
*gulp*
This is when you must employ a lovely tactic I like to call The Visual.
This one works every time. As the heat of his strong arm warms your shoulders and you watch his full lips get closer and closer to your agonizingly longing ones, picture the worst and most horrific thing you could ever imagine.
Your parents. In bed.
For some, this thought alone (incredibly) isn't enough. Feel free to bring whatever you need into your nightmare. Behind door number one we have chains, whips, and leather. Door number two? Oh, some maid costumes...oh, and here is a nurse outfit complete with a syringe and stethoscope. Behind door number three there are...rubber boots? Do we even need to go there. At this point you should be sufficiently back in your right mind (or you may need therapy, I'm just saying) to turn your head so that his lips bypass yours and hit your hair. Just be sure you've not washed it too recently, or used any sort of smell-good hair products. Resisting temptation is hard enough without adding another element of sexy.
Reach for the remote or tell him you suddenly have a desire to hear this annoying song you can't get out of your head. Maybe it will help it go away if you sing it all the way through? Don't mind his incredulous look. At least, not yet.

Third Scenario:
You have both been sitting on his bed, laughing for the past hour at hilarious stories of your childhood. The story about the time you fell asleep on the school bus and wet yourself? You might want to skip that one. You were fourteen, remember? Stick with the time you put the spider in your sister's fake tea pot. How about the time you ran away from home...to the woods a hundred feet behind your house.
But you see where this is going, right? The bed, the low lamplight, the laughter? Yes, the classic Tickling Game. Innocently he pokes your stomach. You squeal and grab your side. He asks if you're ticklish, flashing his pearly whites and lifting a dark eyebrow mischievously. This is definitely one of the hardest times to resist the impending kiss. I like to call this one The Asthma Attack.
As he, likely, tackles you gently to the floor, pinning your light frame beneath the - delicious, I know - weight of his and proceeds to tickle you until you feel you just can't breathe, you must do precisely that. As the laughter and delightful pain subside, he will probably look into your eyes and reach a hand to soothe your mussed hair from your brow, dropping his gaze to your mouth.
Quickly, before you can succumb, clutch at your throat with both hands, allowing your face to turn at least a light shade of pink from lack of oxygen. This will give you time as he sits up in alarm to roll away from him and make a theatrical display of gagging and coughing. Don't worry about being embarrassed. Empower yourself by imagining you're in front of the Academy Award judges if need be. Give an Oscar-winning performance. If he is a gentleman - which, WHY the heck are you on a date with him if he isn't - then he will likely ask if there is anything he can do. Speak one word - water. That will get him out of the room long enough for you to hurry to the mirror for a quick primp session. Don't freak if you see a broken blood vessel in your face from holding your breath. We must suffer, sometimes, for the sake of posterity. You hear footsteps on the stairs. Quickly retreat to the bed and look weak. You can't let him know what a horrible liar you are. What would he think of you? Then again, you DID just shoot him down for the third time. Hmmm...it may be time for a little compromise. Emphasis on the word LITTLE.

Fourth Scenario:
You sip the water, realizing the night is ending. If it seems his interest is waning as well, worry not. You still have one more chance. As he walks you to the front door, bidding you goodnight and thanking you for a fun evening, you can tell he isn't going to try a goodbye kiss. Good, this gives you the advantage. As he places a hand on the doorknob, reach for it, entwine your fingers with his, and slowly lean up.
Now, let's stop for a moment. You should definitely be leaning WAY up. Tippy-toe up. If your boy-toy is five feet, two inches, that's fine. Just make sure you're four foot eight. But, I digress. I forgot, personal preference. Forgive me.
So, back to you on your tippy-toes...or, if it's your thing, him on his. You sigh inside. Finally, your lips meet. It's a nice kiss - soft lips, good breath, not too aggressive. Yet. No. WAIT! Girlfriend, YOU are supposed to be resisting HIM. Stop with the tongue and the hands and the sounds...
UGH!
This is where my final and most brutal tactic comes in.

The Rugrat.
It would be a beautiful thing if I could transport you to the worst daycare imaginable and keep you a prisoner there for days. As that is impossible, I need you to go to a very dark place with me. The Labor and Delivery Room. 100 years ago. Why so long ago? It won't be as affective because today one has a myriad of drugs available to lessen the horrendous pain. No, we must go to a time before all of that.Imagine the screams of pain as the child tears through your body, the blood, the strange people in the room with you...it's like a nightmare, only it's completely real. Now let's go a little further into the future. You see that dirty - and I mean dirty - diaper strewn across the kitchen floor? Yeah, little Junior pulled it from the garbage and Fido tore it open. Now view your savings account; that trip to Tahiti you've been saving for? Oh wait, that's right, you depleted it buying formula and diapers. Now it's three a.m. You've just fallen asleep. Suddenly a scream like a dying banshee slashes through the white monitor by your head. I may be testing your tolerance for pain when I ask you to picture your tight abs turned to flab and your perky chest part of your flabby abs.
Need I go further? If you're covering your eyes and screaming, "No more!" I warned you it was brutal. Ah, there we go. From the horrific look on your face I'm assuming you just saw your demise should you continue that amazing kiss.

The End of the Night
Now that you are safely in your car and driving away, let me say a few more things.
I'm not really so radical. I don't honestly believe one kiss is going to end your life as you know it. But, however unbelievable, it can change your life quite a bit. It can be quite difficult to resist the wiles of a charming and handsome lad, especially after that kiss. Hopefully my wonderful techniques will enable you to overcome some nights of tempestuous temptation. Of course, you could always just tell a boy up front that you're not going to be another notch on his bedpost, whatever your reasoning may be. The first moment he begins to resist your decision, kick him to the curb. That's the best and simplest advice I can give...but then again, I wouldn't have had the fun of indulging in this article. =)

CHEERS!

Light

As the heat of early fall begins abating to the soft breezes of its cooler cousin, she meanders in a sort of wistful daydream at one of her old haunts, a park near the river and shops of city life. The warmth of her favorite latte still simmers in her stomach, and a tentative smile crosses her lips as her thoughts roam a thousand miles away. She has come here to get away from the hectic busyness of the past few months, happy to be in the company of old family and friends. On this day, though, she has ventured out for a walk on her own. The night is sure to bring wild gaiety at a planned bonfire...she thinks of all the people she is so anxious and excited to see, imagining how much everyone will have changed since she last saw them. The smile on her face slowly grows as she sinks further and further into her daydream.
Suddenly a voice at her back, a voice she shall never quite get out of her heart, gently calls her name. She doesn't want to look back, so afraid of what awaits her, yet she aches to the core of her soul to see his face again. Slowly she turns in the direction of the voice. There he is...with her. She clings to the collar of his dress shirt, her pale baby fingers clutching her father's hand as he reaches up to loosen her grip.
In one of those "flash-bulb" memory moments, the scene before her is emblazoned in her mind. The sun glints off the midnight blackness of his hair as he stands, one hand at the top of his front jeans pocket, the other wrapped firmly around the bottom of his young child. Her eyes slowly travel to his, green, storm-tossed waves meeting yellow-gold heat of a tiger's gaze. She doesn't speak. She doesn't weep. She doesn't feel. She simply is.
He speaks. "Hi."
The word echoes in the stillness surrounding them.
"Hello," is all she can think to say.
"This is Sophia," he says, motioning to the baby on his hip. It is then that she realizes she has yet to look upon her face. Her soul screams in protest as she helplessly turns her gaze upon her heartbreak. She is struck, almost physically, by the strong resemblance she shares with her father. Those eyes, piercing green, are shadowed by deep black lashes. She feels as if the child is staring into her soul.
Before she can stop herself, she reaches for the baby.
"May I?"
Without a word he hands the warm bundle to her. She holds the light weight of Sophia in her arms, stroking her cinnamon curls, silently reveling in the lingering scent her father left behind. It is just as she remembered. The child giggles and flails her tiny arms about, simultaneously drawing a laugh from our heroine's heart and slicing it in two. In the next moment Sophia gently rests her chubby hand upon the strange lady's soft cheek and stares into her face; a half a breath feels like an eternity. She can feel the soul of her lost love vibrating in Sophia's heartbeat, and as she glances over her shoulder, the man watches with such a sadness in his gaze that the mile-thick wall around her heart shatters in an instant. As a silent tear slowly begins to trickle down her cheek, she turns back to Sophia. She speaks to her for the first time, although the words are meant for the man over Sophia's shoulder.
"Hi, Sophia. You're beautiful, did you know that? You have a soul that I can see in your eyes, and it is breathtaking. Don't ever worry about days gone by as you grow older...all things happen for a reason, even if it seems that reason may never be clear to your heart. I think I'll always love you...I just can't help it. When I first saw you I just knew you were one of those people I was never going to get out of my heart. You are going to do great things - I believe in you and I always will, darling. Don't ever be afraid to follow your heart, and when you feel that your world is crashing at your feet, always know there is someone out there who cares. Someone once said, 'Mistakes are the portals of discovery.' So, my love, discover the new life that awaits you. Breathe the scent of the fresh-churned dirt roads, calling your name, endless treasures waiting for you at the end. I wish you laughter, hope, and the strength to forgive those who do you wrong, for all the days of your life. May a love so wonderful it steals your breath rain down like a torrent upon your beautiful head."
Finally, she looks up from a glassy ocean of tears to see his quivering chin, the veins in his neck strained as he struggles to keep his composure.
"Sophia, give this to your daddy, from me." She wraps both arms around the baby's slight frame, hugging the child to her chest in the warmest of embraces. She feels small fingers grabbing at her shoulders in an effort to return the hug, and she can't help but give a small laugh through her impending tears. She clutches the small body to hers for another moment, feeling half his heart beat close to hers for a final time. She pulls Sophia's arms from around her neck and places a kiss on her rosy cheek. The child grins and giggles again as shes hands her ripped soul back into his arms. Their fingers touch for a moment infinitely too brief; firecrackers still sparkle through her veins. He holds the child and looks at the woman for a final time. She realizes how aged he looks, finally like the man she always pictured him to be.
In the distance behind her, she hears a female voice call her beloved's name; he lifts his hand in a wave, the sun glinting off the gold band on his left hand. He looks from his child to his lost love, knowing this is it. He lowers his head to kiss the cheek her lips just touched, locking eyes with her. Appearing to direct his words at his daughter, he puts a bandaid over the gash in the woman's heart."I love you, beautiful."
As both their mouths crack the slightest of smiles, she takes the first step into the future, into the light, without a backward glance.

Closure

When will I feel his kiss again? I ache, deep inside, almost incessantly for his lips, his gaze, and his warm touch. Every time I see the tall back of a broad shouldered man, I can't help but recall images of him. I watch the stranger from behind, my gaze sweeping from the top of his dark head to the base of his tanned, strong neck, my heart beating ache and emptiness into my veins as my eyes rest upon his arms. The strength I imagine that resides there makes me yearn for the stranger to suddenly turn around, revealing that he is indeed the man whose arms I wish to make my haven. I die a little inside every time I realize that I shall probably never again lay eyes upon him. For even though I have been "in love" with other boys, not one of them has ever - or will ever - create in me such an intense loneliness at the thought of spending the rest of my life without him.
But does he even care is the question that plagues me next. Does he ever even think of me? I want to scream that my heart is being irrational, that how could he not love me as I love him? Perhaps, though, it was all a facade he played with impeccable sincerety. And if this wretched scenario be the case, what a fool I have acted. What a fool I continue to be. And if this shall ever be an unrequited love, I pray to God I shall keep my sanity should the gorgeous, green-eyed, noble-hearted rogue ever cross my path again.
I ask my heart what it believes, although it is not always loud when I ask this question. I ask why I hope to see him again one day. I ask if it believes I will see him, if our paths will reunite. But I have a difficulty understanding the answer at times. Does my heart say no because that is what I truly believe? Or is it because that faintly whispered "yes" is drowned by the loud fear that I will spend my time wasting away and miss an opportunity with another? I think, perhaps, when I listen the most intently, I can hear my heart sigh - not for the sheer sorrow of love lost, but for the fact that an instinctively important endeavor was not given the chance to be expounded upon. My heart, louder now, voices a yearning for closure in this stairwell of my life. Perhaps, albeit the closure may not be exactly what I think I want, if indeed this is what I need to move on with my life, I've no doubt that it will show itself in a perfect opportunity in due time.

Of Autumn and Pumpkin Spice Lattes...

Autumn…the breeze feels as if a giant hand has taken the blanket of summer heat and snapped it open, letting it lazily fall, like a sheet as it drifts down to cover a bed. Soon the leaves shall crackle under foot and the air will deepen with the aroma of majestic colors - passion, glory, and fire.
Indulging my taste buds with slow sips of a warm, spicy latte, my eyes drift shut and delightful daydreams begin to float around me. The wind blows gently past my ear, tinkling with faint giggles from happy children.
Tree-shrouded lanes beckon to lovers, their silent mystery offering refuge from society’s impediments. The chilly air sweeps down the lane, and nips at azalea-pink cheeks, slipping unnoticed past the simmering flames held in each glance.
I open my eyes to gaze at the blast of cinnamon leaves waving at me from above; if I look closely enough I can glimpse the sparkle of a fairy's wing. Sighing, I sink back into the soft, wood-smoke scented jacket of the boy behind me. He chuckles to himself, the deep sound vibrating through his broad chest and straight to my heart, causing it to skip a beat with complete happiness. He wraps his arms tighter about me and leans down to place a tentative kiss on my wind-nipped cheek. I look up into his sea-green eyes, still pleasantly surprised at the warmth that courses through my middle at a mere glance.
I watch as the world around me continues to move, swearing to myself that people are stepping more lightly and smling more brightly. And why wouldn't they? Just around the corner await days of smoldering campfires and the smell of woodsmoke, the soothing chorus of crickets, and cloudless nights with full moons. The time has come to slip on the soft, bright sweaters that linger lovingly with the scent of last October; scarves of every design and color wait eagerly to be taken out of their winter box and into the cool breeze, the frayed ends happily blowing in the harvest wind. Soon dark rivers of hot chocolate will brew on the hearth and gingerbread men will wait to be born. Glowing orange fruits smile menacingly and sticky faces wear ghoulish glamour on day thirty and one of October.
Under Friday Night Lights the crushing sounds of defeat and victory will soon be heard booming beneath midnight skies, the beating of drums and the low mourning of horns making the night air sing with glory.
So quickly the minutes move towards the anxiously anticipated holidays that I almost forget to breathe in the short-lived glory that is Fall. Take a moment to enjoy.

I Hate Stupid Girls

I loathe stupid girls.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of my soul, I wish that they did not exsist. However, I believe that most of the time stupid girls are NOT without cleverness - their stupidity is merely an Oscar-Winning Performance to gain the attention of the nearest male homosapien.

And for what, pray tell?

That the boy/man/guy/jerk-who-could-really-care-less-about-who-you-are-but-only-cares-about-what-you-will-give-him look at that girl and mentally - or verbally - lewdly inspect her "assets?" COME ON, LADIES! We deserve more than that! Stupid Girls give the ambitious, independent, and confident women a bad name. They make us appear less than worthy of a good man, a good job, and, plaintively put, lower the intelligence of women everywhere.

Don't ask me a stupid "helpless little ol' me" question just because a boy walked into the room. Don't pretend that everything is suddenly insanely funny and your high-pitched giggle is going to be liquidized so you might as well use it all you can. Don't twirl the ends of your bleach-blonde-black-root hair or pop the loudest bubbles possible - no one likes to listen to your smacking. Please refrain from showing us everything and THEN some with your isty-bitsy cheerleader-night-out-after-the-game apparel. Stop packing on the makeup - be confident to go withOUT it for once. OR, if you ARE going to insist on wearing it, be sure you know how to apply it. Don't toss your hair-spray frozen tresses in my face, and don't constantly run your fingers through your paved-flat sticks. Ditch the ohmigod squeal and shoot for something less annoying. Also, wipe that "I'm clueless" look off of your face. Burn the Blondes Do It Better tees, and better yet, shred the other half of your sexual-innuendo-soaked wardrobe.

A man who would lower himself to date such a woman is only adding insult to injury. I can't help but assume that something is seriously lacking in his life or self image to resort to dating a tanned-leather bimbo. He puts his other friends through misery when Barbie tags along, feeling obliged to side with his nerve-grating date or - God forbid - end up alone with his truck and dog. Fortunately for the guy who ends up alone, conversations with a blank white wall are more stimulating.

But, I digress.
Still, it's a shameful epidemic that ravages today's young girls.
Maybe we should create a world-wide quarantine. I'd gladly be the warden of such a prison. =)

Brainless Boeing Bimbos - Actual Comments By Passengers

So, I've not written in a while, although I have had many stories to tell...however, my poor computer has breathed its last, and so my time on a computer is limited. Still, although I don't have time for a very long entry, I thought I might shed some light on some of the IDIOTIC things people say when they get on a plane.It scares me at times; these people drive, vote, and raise children. Enjoy.

"Oh, you mean, the weather is going to affect our departure time?"
- a dead serious man in business class...in the middle of a RAGING thunderstorm. He wanted to know if we would take off in ten or fifteen minutes, and when I explained that the weather would probably delay us quite a bit, that was his ingenious reply.

"Excuse me, do I LOOK like I need carbs?"
- a skinny, blonde, big-boobed chick to my roomate when she was offered a two ounce bag of mini-pretzels during inflight service.

"Can I use my cell phone to call home from up here?"
- a grown man who was being absolutely serious.

"Excuse me, I can't get my wireless to connect."
- a guy who rang his call light to ask me that. When I looked at him incredulously, wondering if he was serious, his wife said, "He likes to try everything, haha!" Wow.

"Um, how do I open the door?"
- idiot who stared at the lavatory door for about thirty seconds, all the while looking at the large PUSH sign on the door right in front of her.

"What gate does Fort Lauderdale go out of?"
- meanwhile, we have not yet departed from the gate in LOS ANGELES...he wants to know what gate he is going out of - six hours later.

"Excuse me, what state are we over right now?"
- Let's see, let me pull out my map. Oh yeah, it's the NORTH F-IN POLE!!

"Um, I didn't get any headphones."
- Um, I just walked through the cabin with them, looked right at you, and got a blank stare (this happens ALL the time).

"Could I get a Jack on the rocks?"
- it's 6:00 am. Wow.

"Is this trash?"
- as they toss their empty cup and napkin into the ICE BUCKET on the cart.

"Ma'am, your purse needs to be underneath the seat in front of you."
"I know, you told me already."
- as she keeps her purse on her lap.

"The flight attendant keeps saying on the annoucements that this is the flight to Boston, but we are going to Orlando!"
- a group of women who got on the wrong plane, sat down, and proceeded to tell me that WE didn't know where we were going.

"Why did we stop?? Why did we stop??"
- frantic woman who rang her call button several times once we reached our cruising altitude above the clouds. Omg.

"Can I get a double scotch on the rocks?"
"Sir, I'm sorry, but you appear to be intoxicated and we reserve the right to refuse alcohol to passengers."
"Okay then, can I get a Bud Light?"
- ugh.

"Is this your normal route?"or "What route are we taking today?"

"What kind of drinks do you have?"
"Coke products."
"Okay then, I'll have a Dr. Pepper."
- that was COKE. Not Pepsi.

"Excuse me, could you get the captain to turn the engine down? I can't hear my friend."
- imagine a 'ba dom shh' with a cymbol at this point.

"I'd like an orange soda.""Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we don't serve that."
"Well, I see an orange Minute Maid can in there," she says, reaching to rummage in my tray.
"Um. That would be orange JUICE. We don't HAVE orange soda."
"Oh."
- yeah, I like to listen to myself lying to passengers. Sheesh.

"Can we just put the cat in the overhead bin for takeoff?"
- another passenger's resolution for a pet carrier that was too big to fit under the seat.

"Ma'am, we don't have champagne on these flights."
"Oh yeah! Because, like, it might explode."
- what?

"I don't see why I have to be responsible for this door."
- a woman in the exit row...she was moved from her seat, lol.

"Do you have to stand up the entire flight?"
- a kid from a group of highschoolers.

"Do you have a menu?"

"Excuse me, is the flight from Atlanta to LA only an hour and a half?"
- the time change is a THREE HOUR difference. This idiot thought it took an hour to fly across the country.

"Are we going to have those big blue things (the engines) right next the window for the whole flight?"

A friend of mine was on a flight up the East coast and they passed over the Atlantic ocean at one point. A customer rang her button and asked what body of water it was. The flight attendant decided to play a trick and answered,"The Red Sea." The woman elbowed her husband and says, "See! I told you!"
- WOW.
"Do you have any Dr. Pepper?"
"No, I'm sorry."
"Well, do you have any Diet Dr. Pepper?"
"You didn't tell me this creamer was pressurized!!"
- a customer who complained when the "pressurized" creamer spilled on him.

"Do I have to listen to this loud noise for the ENTIRE flight?"

"Do you get off in Baltimore?"
"No, we get off in Maryland."

"Can I use my cell phone?"
"No."
"Well, then, can I use yours?"
- a passenger, 40,000 feet in the air, to my friend

"Why aren't we higher?? Those mountaintops are awfully close!"
- the mountaintops were the clouds.

Whenever we have unaccompainied minors aboard, we are required to brief them. One conversation went as follows.
"Do you know how to fasten your seatbelt?"
"Yes."
"Well, can you show me?"
"Lady, look, it says 'lift' right on it!"

An old man was traveling by himself. He called the flight attendant back to tell her this lovely message: "I have to go to the bathroom, and it might be messy...I don't think my Depends will hold it, so you might need to get another seat cushion in Atlanta."

"Do they have one for women?"
- a MAN who was about the use the lavatory. ?

"Why are you doing this to me?!"
- imagine a woman with a heavy NY accent saying this - we were delayed because of a storm and she rang her button to ask me this.

These aren't exactly quotes, but other stupid stories that people have told me...

There was a plane change on a through flight from Boston to Orlando - this means that people had to take all of their luggage, deplane, and get on another plane at another gate.The flight attendants explained to people over and over again what to do, but questions were still being asked. As the plane landed and everyone else got off the plane, a group of people were left. They asked the flight attendant, "Can we leave our bags on the plane?"
At this point, the attendant said, "YES! If you want your bags to end up in California!"

Another woman told me a story of a man who literally had the tray table down, and was clipping his TOENAILS...and sweeping them into the floor.

People also take off their shoes and socks and put their bare feet on the wall in front of them.

Another woman used her bare foot and toes to lower the tray table in the next seat when the flight attendant brought her a drink.

There once was a time when it was very hot and the plane would not be cooled down until the aircraft would reach cruising altitude above 10,000 feet, so if a customer would not be able to deal with the heat, they should deplane at that time.
The plane finally reached its cruising altitude and was slowing starting to cool down. A woman called the flight attendant back to her row with a question.
"Excuse me, but I'm still hot - are we allowed to roll our windows down now?"

Still concerning windows, a passenger asked if he could have a window seat because he wanted to roll it down so he could get some better shots with his camera.

An older woman asked her husband for a phone number as we were doing service at her row. We were 40,000 feet up, when I looked over to see her looking at her phone, puzzled, and telling her husband it wouldn't go through.
"Ma'am, first of all, your phone is supposed to remain off during the flight, and second of all, you won't be able to get any service this high in the air."

Ah, people never cease to amaze me. Stay tuned for even more ludacris comments coming your way...