Why altruism sometimes sucks and my flight back home

I'm afraid of heights, as already stated in previous posts. Therefore, airplanes are not one of my favorite means of transport (as you fly at freaking high altitudes), although I had to confront it at least 40 times during my round the world trip. Most of the time, nothing really special happened and I was able to control myself. But one flight in particular, the last one, it all went wrong.

My Lufthansa flight back home would departure from Frankfurt at night. I checked-in as soon as possible, choosing an aisle seat, right in the middle, far from the freightining windows. My seat was more spacious than the average and nobody was by my side. What a stylish comeback.

Prior to departure, a couple started walking around the plane looking for two empty seats. The guy had a problem in his knee and needed more space. The girl was just annoying. They asked several Germans if they could switch seats, but they all replied with their usual kindness: "no". Feeling bad for the "handicaped" man, I agreed to change seats.

I was then placed right beside a bold German guy, who looked more anxious than a prostitute waiting for the results of an HIV test. As he was afraid of heights as well (but in a level much more critical than mine), we started a conversation. It was his first flight after 7 years and, as soon as we took off, he made so many signs of the cross that I'm pretty sure that man was blessed.

After some hours chatting with him, when annoyance was my general sentiment, I put on headphones, as a "leave me alone" sign. Unfortunately, Lufthansa's in-flight entertainment lacked decent movies, so pretending was my only option. He ignored my blockage and asked "Leandro! Do you want some bread!?" screaming in dispair, wanting my attention. I gave him an acid reply "no, I'm watching a movie". He apparently felt asleep. Freedom!

A couple of minutes later, he began to convultionate, harlem shake style. Unbelievable, that man really wanted to screw me. After several body contractions, he suddenly stopped, looking like a dead man. I rushed to call for help. A flight assistant brought an oxygen mask and I had to, once again, give away my seat. We were 6 hours away from São Paulo and there was no place left for me.

Only one hour later, Lufthansa gave the victim a business class seat, he was alive, but needed more space to relax. My adrenalin level was so high and I was so enraged with the entire situation that sleeping was impossible. Asking for an emergency landing in Recife started to sound like a plausible idea, my patience was wearing thin.

The last 3 hours of my flight were more tormenting than waiting for a girlfriend's confirmation that she's on her period once again, several days after a night of unprotected love. When we finally landed, my popularity was at its high, thanks to the amount of time I've spent making friends (to alleviate my pain) and my important role on the salvation of the bold German guy. Apart from this short moment of gratitude, helping the couple ended up being a bad experience.

Altruism sometimes sucks.