Day 14 1/4: Somewhere over Cyprus

Meet Mass. Yes, that is the name of the man whose hand is on my boob. A bald, miniscule Brit standing all of, oh, 5'2-ish, Mass waltzed onto the plane wearing a suit, a beanie, and a limp. Never fear, to help out with this was a four-foot long cane that any self-respecting pimp would be jealous of.

Like I said, James had the window seat, I had the middle, and Mass was on the aisle. Right after takeoff I pulled out Scrabble, and it wasn't long before I noticed the hairy little man on my right breathing down my neck. Feeling the peer pressure, I invited him to play.

Mass wasn't the most intelligent person in the world. Not to toot my own horn, but even I know that it's not spelled Kat. James and I hurried things up to get him out of our hair, ate our meal then got as comfy as possible for some shut eye. James leaned up against the window, and I rested my head on his shoulder. I did manage to doze off, and when I did wake up, Mass' head was on my shoulder.

Umm, okay. Perfect stranger whose ass I'd just kicked in Scrabble has decided he wants to sleep on my shoulder. Without my permission. This is definitely not okay with me, and I gently ease him back into his seat so as not to wake him up. My head goes back on James' shoulder, and I close my eyes again. When I open my eyes, Mass' head is back on my shoulder, he's all snuggled up against me, and his hand is completely spread-eagled over the right half of my chest.

Oh, hell no. This does not work with me one fucking bit. I pick up shithead's hand, toss it back into his lap, and shook James awake. His cheek was red from leaning against the window, and his hair was in his eyes.

"Everything okay?"

I snorted. I do that a lot. Then I gestured to still sleeping Mass. "He felt me up!"

Wasting no time at all, James reached over me to tap him on the shoulder. Instead of waking up, Mass made a huge production by snoring and turning around to face the aisle, apparently still in a deep sleep. Uh huh. James poked again. Nada.

You have to know how to pick your battles. What Mass had done was totally wrong and I was totally disgusted, but to the rest of the world that hadn't experienced it, I would be wrong. Why? Dude was asleep. Of course I knew he was faking, James knew too, but it looked pretty real to everyone else. Looks are all that matter sometimes. If we woke him up to tell him off, it would look like we were making mountains out of molehills just because a man in a deep sleep had accidentally put his hand where he shouldn't have. Mass would be the victim, and I would be the paranoid freak.

Sometimes, you just have to let things slide. And so on the grander scale of things, I let this slide. But not completely.

It's great to have a big, bad James. He's huge to the average person, but to a little person, he's a mastodon. He doesn't say much, which is brilliant, meaning he's all the more intimidating. Mass might've gotten away with first base, but he knew he screwed up. He also knew James had over a foot and 100lbs on him, and he stayed "asleep" for the rest of the flight. He didn't even crack an eyelid until the plane had come to a complete stop, and then he got up, collected his things, and stormed right on out.

He sure walked fast for a guy with a limp.