Proper Etiquette Takes a Snooze on the Red Eye

I admit I'm somewhat of an etiquette freak. I'm a faithful reader of Miss Manners, and for many years I looked to Ann Landers' column everyday to help educate me in the ways of proper social convention. My reputation in my family is well-known for expecting thank you notes from gift recipients. "You know how aunt Cookie (my nickname) likes her thank you notes," my sister cautions her children (while rolling her eyes) when they procrastinate in tackling the arduous chore after the holidays.

It's just that I don't want my nieces and nephews to grow up to be clods. The first time I ever saw the word "clod" was while reading Ann Landers, who used the term liberally in her responses to chagrined, advice-seeking letter- writers. "He's a clod," she would often surmise, and leave it at that. Even as a teen, I knew I didn't want to be one of those.

We all know there are many clods in this world. The guy who cuts in front of you in line. The lady who eats off of her plate while standing in line at a buffet. The buff athlete who parks in the handicapped space. The guy with MRSA who doesn't cover his mouth when he coughs.

But there seems to be one place on earth where the clod to non-clod ratio seems higher than in other places, which is on an airplane. In such close quarters it's nearly impossible to hide your clod-dum if you happen to be one. And woe be unto thee if you happen to be seated in front of a flying one.

On a recent red-eye flight back from Las Vegas, my unlucky streak continued when I happened to be dealt just that. I realized this shortly after I settled into my seat and soon felt something jiggling my seat from behind. When I turned around I saw the top of a bald head, whose owner was using the back of my seat to prop it against. The weight of his noggin pressing against my seat caused my set to lurch forward.

"Maybe he had the big one," my ever-so-helpful husband observed when I told him that the passenger behind me was slumped forward and using the back of my seat as a stabilizer for the entire weight of his body. The head's stupor was interrupted only by occasional violent phlegm-filled coughs into the back of my seat at ear level.

When I turned around a second time I caught the eye of a woman in the next aisle who noticed the head-butting passenger and gave me a perplexed look and started laughing. She then made a motion for me to forcefully lean back in my seat to wake the guy up. I leaned back, but the heavy head didn't budge.

Convinced that I probably wouldn't be able to wake the man even if I tried, I decided to let gravity solve the problem during takeoff. As the plane surged forward, I felt my seat recline backwards, and I was finally free of the dead weight pressing into the back of my seat. The offender was pulled back into his own seat and all was well. Until he started snoring.

One nice thing about flying the red-eye, though, is there are usually a lot of empty seats. I found an entire row towards the back of the plane and stretched out.

But not before kicking off my shoes and hanging my stockinged feet into the aisle.

I'll tell you one thing - being a clod is a heck of a lot more comfortable.