Shit Shoes McGee

So I was on a flight from JFK to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico on 11/29/08. I always request an aisle seat because I typically drink so much water and coffee in the morning that I could be on an over-active bladder commercial. I'm sitting in my seat looking at my fellow passengers with my usual contempt when I notice a guy just across the aisle. He's about 60 years old with a graying mustache and hair. Dressed in the usual attire that some guy his age that is not traveling with a woman wears. You know what I mean. They're his Sunday's best, and he knows he looks good.

As I do this head-to-toe scan of a TJ Maxx special button down, white khakis and whoa, what's that on those white sneakers. You guessed it. Shit all over his sneakers. I don't mean just on the bottom of one. It was smudged around the upper back heel part as well as up by his toes and also on the bottom. Basically this poor bastard tried to polish his shoes with shit. We haven't even pushed back yet, and I'm in full panic mode fearing that I might start smelling it next. I mean, this is going to be a long flight.

This could have been Pope Benedict, but since he was sitting next to me, with feces on his sneaks, I instantly hate this man. I know that if the plane goes down, he's the last one I'm helping. We take off smoothly, and Shit Shoes McGee finally looks down and notices the train wreck on his feet. He kicks off his shoes and slides to the window seat because there is no one else sitting in his row. Now, the sneaks are just sitting there smouldering 3 feet from me at the aisle seat. Let's fast forward to the good part.

Just before we begin our descent and Shit Shoes realizes that he can't step onto the tarmac looking like this. He proceeds to take napkins that he hoarded during drink service to wipe the shit off his sneakers. This wasn't working so well, so he takes an ice cube out of his drink and holds it on the soiled part of his sneakers. He wipes again with the napkins which he then stuffs into the seat pocket in front of him. At this point I'm dry heaving and seconds away from full body convulsions.

Shit Shoes is no dummy; he's quite a resourceful fellow. Realizing he needs more surface area, he grabs the Delta blanket that was so cordially provided to him and attempts to remove the stool with that. Now I've seen more than enough. My feelings for him go beyond loath. He works diligently with the blanket/ice cube combo for about 3 minutes until the white sneaks meet his satisfaction. With a carefree whim about him, he tosses the blanket to side for some poor soul to pick up and fold and probably put back into the plastic for someone else to use.

I spent two weeks down there surfing, eating, meeting new friends, and telling anyone that would listen about what I witnessed on the plane. When Sadie and I got on the plane to head back on 12/13/08 I took my seat and looked at her with a quiet sincerity that is unusual for me and said, "see that guy right there? That's him. That's Shit Shoes McGee."