[Contains strong language]
I have flown a lot over the years and have been involved in many weird encounters along the way. Nothing, however, has come close to my encounter with the “Clints.” It started on my return flight from Regina to Calgary on a cold December day in 2012.
My day started well enough. I had a very good interview with a senior government official and was looking forward to returning to sunny California. I boarded my return flight in Regina and looked for my seat assignment, 23C.
The look of terror on my face must have been something as, upon discovering my seat, I noticed that seat 23C is about two (2) inches smaller than a normal seat and, as bad, the seat is right beside the lavatory. I asked the nearby flight attendant if this seat was, in fact, smaller than the others and she unreservedly said, “No,the seat is like all the others.”
Now I know better than to get into it with a FA for fear of being blacklisted, so I put my briefcase in the overhead bin and backed into the seat, carefully, like parking a 747 in a single car garage. I thought at least I was on board and heading home.
Suddenly, there they were… the Clints! Their presence was immediate and profound. It was like watching the arrival of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, squared. They were menacing and had an unmistakable presence. The Clints, you see, are brothers. Yes, brothers! A cruel joke if ever I heard one… brothers with the same first name. I know this because upon trying to figure out their proper seating assignment, one Clint said to the other Clint, “You sit in middle seat Clint!” His brother thereupon said, “No, Clint, I want the window seat!”
You have to wonder about parents who do such a thing to innocent children, but in witnessing the Clints’ behavior throughout the flight, I now understand.
For the sake of distinction, I decided to re-name my seatmates… “Big Clint” and “Little Clint.” The reason for doing this is that there was a difference between them, but only insofar as physical appearance, not in degree of obnoxiousness.
Once seated, Big Clint started an exchange with Little Clint…
“WHAT THE FUCK!”
Little Clint replied, “FUCKER!”
“Seats are too FUCKING small.”
“FUCKING plane is jammed.”
“I want a FUCKING BEER!”
“FUCK, MOTHER-FUCKING FUCKER!”
This went on for a while and then Little Clint, fidgeting constantly, reached into the seat pocket and carefully took out the air sickness bag. First he looked at it carefully, delicately, curiously. He examined it from all angles. It’s as if he was trying to figure out how to crawl inside that tiny little bag and curl up for a long sleep. It was like watching an ape looking into a fire pit for the first time, bewildered, curious and marveling at the possibilities. Indeed, Little Clint needed to get into that bag but just couldn’t figure out how to do it?
Then Big Clint yelled, “FUCKER! THEY BETTER TAKE MY FUCKING DEBIT CARD! MOTHERFUCKERS!” (It turns out that WestJet takes only credit cards for onboard purchases. Big Clint, therefore, knew he might have a problem.)
It’s not that Big Clint was planning his beer purchase strategy before we even pushed back from the gate. But rather it was his over-the-top LOUD and OBNOXIOUS voice describing his problem that was the disturbing part. Indeed, it was his over-the-top uncontrolled outburst that made me shudder. It was the way it came out of his uneducated, foul mouth… “MUD-ER-FUCK-ER!”
If you want my opinion, “MUDD-A-FUCK-A” just doesn’t sound the same coming from a prairie hillbilly. It can only be properly articulated in its true form coming from a black guy from East Los Angeles. Only black guys from East L.A. can really pull off a good “MOTHERFUCKER.” It should sound like it’s rolling off your lips as in one, continuous, smooth word… “M-U-D-D-A-F-U-C-K-A!” The Clints just got it wrong, in my opinion, not only because they have ape DNA but because they also lack the necessary swagger. They should just do it like white apes and be done with it as opposed to trying to replicate the real thing. It’s embarrassing really.
Anyway, things seemed to settle down a bit when Big Clint came alive all of a sudden and decided to egg on Little Clint by making weird faces. Little Clint thought this was really funny and started to imitate Big Clint. It was like watching two apes at the zoo trying to imitate the zookeeper’s facial expressions at feeding time. I thought, combined, the Clint’s I.Q. might be 12. Certainly, that was their age in behavioral years but, then again, that’s being exceedingly generous.
After the weird “face” exchange, the Clints drifted off into unconsciousness. I was, needless to say, overjoyed. Finally some peace and quiet but, unfortunately, it was short-lived. Soon Little Clint slumped in his seat, turned abruptly to the right, and placed his filthy baseball-capped head on my shoulder. I was mortified! What am I going to do? Do I wake the beast and set him off on an uncontrolled rant? I can’t move an inch because my seat is so bloody small there’s not an inch to spare. What to do? What to do?
MUDD-A-FUCK-A!
Thankfully, the beer trolley was coming and surely the flight attendant’s call for alcoholic beverages would awaken the beasts from their leisurely slumber. It did! The sound of beer cans opening instantly awakened the Clints like mother’s milk at feeding time. Big Clint, now salivating, said, “They better FUCKING take my MUDERFUKING debit card… FUCKERS!”
Arrival of the beverage cart with the smiley-faced flight attendant was upon us. Cheerfully, the flight attendant asked Big Clint, “What could I get for you?” Big Clint’s reply came from a place deep inside the hollow shell he was occupying, “BEEEEEERRRRRR!” (with a groan on the end). Then, thinking of his problem, he uttered very gently, “Do you take debit cards, Miss?”
Flight Attendant… “I’m sorry sir, we only take Visa, MasterCard or American Express!”
“MUD-ER-FUCK-ER!”
“Sir, please don’t use that kind of language!”
“Oh, I’m sorry… er, um, nothing then.”
Witnessing Big Clint’s disappointment was the highlight of my trip. It was like watching a giant balloon explode when pricked with a needle… sudden, loud and extreme. It was like watching a hungry zoo ape being taunted with ripe fruit only to have it thrown out of his range. In a way it’s cruel but, deep down, I must admit I was thrilled at his profound disappointment.
Touchdown occurred shortly after the beer incident and the Clints were very anxious to get off the plane. The problem was we were in the last row. Watching the passengers in the plane disembark was like watching molasses being poured out of a jar. I was frozen in my standing position ready to bolt from the Clints but there was no escape. I had to wait and so did the Clints.
Frustrated with the pace of the exit, Big Clint uttered, “THESE FUCKING FUCKS BETTER HURRY UP!”
Little Clint, in a rare showing of independent analytical thought said, “But Clint, we’re in Calgary for four hours, what’s the hurry?”
Big Clint’s reply… “CAUSE THESE ASSHOLES ARE FUCKERS, THAT’S WHY!”
Oh, did I mention that the Clints like to fart?
{ 12 comments… read them below or add one }
Hmmm. As far as writing goes I find that people who bring race into an otherwise fairly interesting story which does not require it usually suffer from some type of complex or consider themselves to be funny. I have no idea what a "black guy from east L.A. " pronouncing the word (M.F.) has to do the the underlying theme of two huge rude passengers. I can only assume the writer was attempting to compare/contrast behaviors? Sort of like being amused with New Yorkers saying "fuggetaboutit." But of course all New Yorkers don't say that nor do all "black guys from east L.A. say M.Fr"
I think the author was just trying to give a little distinction between how these guys said it and how most would expect it to be heard….IDK..
Great story! Thanks for reporting it as you found it, regardless of political correctness.
Sounds fake. And prejudiced against prairie folk. Would you have used the ape references if the travelers had been black. I think it is a prejudiced lie from beginning to end.
Not fake!
Actually happened on flight from Regina to Calgary on December 19th. You can read anything into it you want but its not 'prejudice as you suggest. Trying to show distinctions in behaviors as suggested by first poster.
Lame.
What a strange and bizarre (and really unpleasant) experience is all I can say.
This is just bullsh** you lying mudda fucker I didn't fart
Big Clint
Mudafuka, yes you did!
Clint (don't call me little)
No reason to bring up race.
I find this very offensive to apes. They likely would have sneered at the behaviour of these two as well 😛
I agree. Calling those fools apes is a disgrace to apes everywhere