The Hacker

Flight 426 on Continental was my mode of transportation from one home to another. Quite proud that I had only packed one small backpack for this weekend sojourn - allowing the luxury of arriving at the airport a mere 45 minutes prior to my flight - I made myself comfortable on the aisle seat next to the Prada sisters. I sit back, relaxed, and prepared to begin reading the volumes of work I had with me.

Take off.
Movie begins.
Prada sisters begin stroking each others hair....
I read.
"OH SH************TTTT!"

Startled out of my state of quiet reminiscing, I whip my head back to see a woman of small frame, perfectly manicured nails, and large hair, with her headphones on - screaming at the sports movie on the screen.
*phew* relieved that no one was actually hurt, I turn back around and begin to fade back into a state of relaxation.
The stroking proceeds.

*HHAACCKKK*

A sound like none I had ever heard. A mix between a cough, a sneeze, and a hairball itching its way out of your throat. And then...the sniffing began. Not any type of normal, quiet sniffing that one may find slightly irritating on a bad day...but the kind of sniffing that makes your skin crawl as the noise makes its way down your spine. Something like a garggle-sniff.
Shocked again, I turn around and see the shouter.
Garggle-sniff-hack...
I turn up my i-Pod hoping to drown out the sound, but to no avail.
Stroking continues.
Garggle-sniff-hack continues.
Every ten minutes I turn back, just to make sure it is still her. Marvelled at the fact that one little body could make that much noise. Even more blown away that NO ONE else is phased by this public display of conjestatory fireworks.

The stroking stops.
The hacker sleeps.
Turbulents carry me the rest of the way home.