You know those moments when time speeds around you, but all actions in your line of sight are moving in slow motion? I got to experience that while a fifty-year-old woman fingered my underwear.
No. I wasn't wearing them at the time.
I was sitting on a plane, on the way to Washington. I was buckled in, headphones on, my don't-even-think-about-asking-me-if-I-want-peanuts look on my face. We were going to take off in just a few minutes.
I am awakened from my tunnel vision by the gf, who mouths something that I can't understand through my headphone-covered ears. It looks like she mouthed Isn't tits your bag?
While they are, I couldn't figure out for the life of me why she was bringing this up...so I removed my headphones.
Isn't that your bag?
Wow. That made a lot more sense...but I still didn't really understand, until I followed her gaze to the woman sitting two rows ahead of me, who was pulling my suitcase down from the overhead compartment.
I didn't say anything because I was certain, CERTAIN, that she would figure her mistake out at any moment...and, embarrassed, return my bag, and go back to her seat.
I didn't take into account that she was a fucking idiot, though. My bad.
She takes my bag all the way down to her seat, and starts to unzip it. This, I think, is a little odd.
Ma'am I query...and she ignores me through her unzipping.
Ma'am I say louder, as she reaches into my bag.
MA'AM I yell as the entire plane now watches us. I don't think that is your bag.
I am just looking for my bag and she slowly starts pulling my underwear out of my suitcase.
The flight attendant now comes over and asks me if anything was wrong. Besides the fact that some lady I had never met before was thumbing through the pee hole of my boxers in the middle of a crowded plane...no, nothing was wrong.
Ma'am, can you please put my bag back? That isn't yours, I request. She looks over, underwear dangling from her fingers, a confused look on her face, and it seems to finally click: That isn't her bag.
She takes a quick whiff of my underwear, puts them back in the bag, zips it back up, and puts it back into the overhead compartment.
NOW, this is when it starts to get weird.
The flight attendant says "Sir, you might want to check your bag. She might have put something in there." And all of the sudden I see myself getting arrested for felony drug charges as I plead, "No, seriously, that isn't my heroin. The crazy underwear lady put that in my boxers!" I guess that wouldn't go over too well.
So, I get up, bring my bag back down, and open it back up right behind her. I toss my clothes around for a few seconds, don't find anything, and exclaim, Hey, where did my $10,000 go? The entire section of the plane starts laughing...except the crazy underwear lady. She starts staring at me like I am looking in HER bag and says I don't know where they put my bag. Do you have my bag?
The flight attendant has to come over and ask her if she checked her bag, where she left it, etc...and she is clearly confused. I shit you not, moments later, they make an announcement that someone left his/her bag at the front of the plane.
I put my (and this is important) BLACK AND GRAY suitcase back into the overhead compartment while she goes to retrieve what is hopefully her suitcase. It was hers. It was also red, and looked nothing like mine! Everyone in the entire section of the plane is looking at me and mouthing "What the fuck is wrong with her?" And I mouth back "Stanford grad?"
The rest of the flight goes off without a hitch, until we land, when she once AGAIN starts to go for my bag. Luckily, the flight attendant comes over, and tells her that the suitcase is not hers.
She walked away, out of my life, never to see me, or my underwear, ever again.