The Divine Right of Demon Spawns on Planes

Maybe it’s because I myself cannot remember the joy of being able to scream with abandon or without worry of judgment that I have no empathy for this demon spawn I know is about to end up in the plane aisle in front of or behind me. Because that’s just how life works, don’t it? Whatever you wish wouldn’t happen is bound to happen. That’s the gambit. Whose gambit, exactly? It’s difficult to say. Some people believe it’s “God’s”—others, a “cosmic design.” 

But there was nothing cosmic about this demon spawn. This little bundle of…hoi polloi. And though I knew I was technically part of the riffraff, I had a Claire Standish view of myself: “I know it’s detention, but I don’t think I belong in here.” Alas, it seemed as though I did, stepping outside of myself as I watched Corporeal Me board the aircraft with a veritable plethora of missing links. She looked miserable. As miserable as all the others encroaching upon her personal space should have. But instead, they all appeared decidedly bovine in their semi-contented resignation. Were they provided with some sort of “happy pill” that she missed out on? She and, well, the demon spawn, that is. Who wasn’t just “miserable,” but positively resentful… not only of being put on this Earth, but also being forced to mingle among the common man well before her time. Before it would be mandatory for her day-to-day existence. In order to “function in society.” 

At present, however she had no obligation to—and Corporeal Me only knew it was a “she” because her parents had deemed it necessary to outfit her in the frilliest of pink dresses (complete with a barrage of pink bow appliqués). She was literally Devil With a Pink Dress On. Of course, if Corporeal Me were to express her sentiments regarding this child’s undeniable ties to Mephistopheles, she would be reamed for her insensitivity. Then again, who would she express them to? The elderly decrepit woman in a wheelchair haphazardly “strewn” next to her? The very one about to milk that decrepitude for the sake of priority boarding? Corporeal Me couldn’t decide what was worse: the elderly’s sense of entitlement when it came to travel and all other things, or the ceaseless shrieks of the demon spawn communing with Satan. Of course, she knew it was the latter as she could swear her ear drum might be on the verge of bursting. At the bare minimum, decibels were being lost. And they hadn’t even boarded yet…


Two hours into a ten-hour flight and I could no longer pretend Corporeal Me was any different from the me I had tried to dissociate from my body. We were both one and the same—and we were both in hell, where the demon spawn had dragged us. Because apparently, since she was, we all had to be. Such was the hyper-selfish nature of “human beings” that didn’t yet have control over their faculties. And that’s why, in a prime example of a full-circle moment, the aged could act in a similar manner. Then the even more hateful thought flashed through my mind that all children aged 0-14 should be rounded up with all senior citizens aged 65+ and ride their own specialty airline together, without being a bother to the goddamn rest of us. Of course, parents being overly attached to their precious, helpless spawn, this would never be a permissible option. The aged, on the other hand, are constantly “cordoned off”—which is why such an airline concept would be more permissible for “their kind,” with only Italy and Japan seeming to have any empathy for their elders. But before I could ruminate on this idea much longer, my Young&Olds Airways brainstorming was interrupted by yet another ear-decimating wail. 


Hour three in this ten-hour flight offered little improvement to “sound quality”—no possible option for “rest and relaxation” with that demon spawn’s cries only intensifying. Sure, I should “take into account” her “fragile little ears” as “the poor thing” had never experienced anything like the sound of a booming plane engine or the ear-popping madness that comes with a change in altitude. But what about my ear-popping madness? What about everyone else’s? Did they deserve to suffer just because she was new on this planet and didn’t know the ropes? No. But such is the “divine” right of demon spawns. Since time immemorial. Or at least since the invention of commercial air travel. And that’s when I got the genius plan to give the demon spawn and her parents a taste of their own medicine. The bitter poison they’d been serving up to the rest of the passengers all this time. And since everyone else on a plane is too contented with the personal parlor wall in front of them, it’s up to me to take action. To show those who decide to travel with demon spawns that it’s not okay. That it’s not simply another “part of life,” like breeding itself (as they would like you to believe). I was done being among the thousands upon thousands of passengers every day that merely sat by and “took it.” And why? Because the airline wouldn’t do the ultimately more humane thing and ban babies from air travel.

And as I approached Rosemary’s baby in the aisle behind me to let out my own banshee scream that not only far outshone the demon spawn’s but also got it to shut right up in response, I figured my next step would be to fill out a comment card explaining that the air space of this Earth would be far better off without so-called “babies” noise polluting them. And honestly, what could be so pressing for a parent to need to travel right away with their fresh progeny? They could all spout some “totally logical” reason like wanting to show off their “beautiful gift” to family members across the land, but, if that’s the case, just make the family members that truly want to see said demon spawn schlep across all creation to get a glimpse. It’s the fairest thing to everyone else who has to deal with the already fraught “aircraft scene.” In fact, it’s airlines that should be paying people like me to fly, not the other way around. For it is I who am forced to remain silent in the face of this blatant and grave injustice that somehow constantly manages to punish those who opt to do the sensible thing and not birth. So I screamed, okay? I fucking screamed in rebellion. And you know what? The demon spawn was hushed. For about ten minutes before getting right back to it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s