Tanning Spray, Fist Pumps, and Large Muscles

            Waking up at 7:00 am was a lot tougher than I had initially expected.  If only I knew what was going to happen later in the day/into the next day, I probably would have stayed in my bed, curled up in the fetal position, dreaming of all things that are American.  Here’s the breakdown of my extravagant journey, which in actuality was just a comedy of errors.

Flight 1134: DFW-Newark

Things to consider before discussing the flight/my thought progression:

·         Newark is New Jersey

o       Jersey Shore is also in New Jersey

·         A bodybuilding competition in DFW took place on Friday + Saturday leading up to my Sunday flight

o       Muscle tees and spray tans were seen frequent and often near the gate

While boarding I had the distinct pleasure of sitting next to a Danny Bonadouche clone who, as he told me, “got screwed out of winning the award for best abs because he wasn’t tan enough.”  Anyway, the flight went off without a hitch until Danny boy insisted on testing my knowledge of the 1^st season of Jersey Shore.   As David and the Walnut St. crew know, many a fun night ended with intense Jersey shore knowledge.  Unfortunately, I’m ashamed to inform all of my friends and family that I failed wannabe-Danny Bondouche’s challenge and brought immense shame upon myself.  According to Danny boy it was a ‘travesty and disgrace’ that I did not know what tanning oil each of the bro-skis used, and I failed to memorize their daily workout routine.  As a consolation prize (and I’m not kidding), Danny offered to help me improve my fist-pump.  After I showed Danny, the boss man, my fist pump with limited enthusiasm, not only did he burst out in laughter but his crew of muscular bros sitting a row up joined in on this apparently hilarious attempt at mastering the pumping of the fist.  His response to me was: “Now listen here brah, I’m doing this for all the guidos and guidettes around the country”.  What he did next was one of those moments that happen once or twice in a lifetime, where you literally cannot believe what happens before your eyes.  The fearless leader of the wolf-pack, Danny, jumped from his aisle seat, into the aisle screaming, “if you love New Jersey, prove it.” Slowly Danny, with what I learned was perfect form and flawless facial expression, started a fist pump rally (if that’s what you call it) that spread throughout the plane of about 75 people.  Surprisingly, the stewardesses on my flight did not enjoy this guy’s attempt at humor and told him to sit down and stop pumping his fist.  The flight ended a short 30 minutes later with no more exciting Jerseyisms, much to my chagrin.  Danny and I exchanged a handshake and said our goodbyes, and finally I was in Newark.

I was super pumped to wait for 5 hours before our flight boarded for Geneva, which takes us into a completely different story, full of kicking babies, annoyed grannies, and stewardesses getting ‘bowed in the face. Good times were had by all.