Letters to People Unlikely to Respond: Atlanta-to-LA Pee-Brain

To the girl with RLS and the grape-sized bladder sitting behind me for the last 4 hours.

Honey.

Your incessant kicking of the bottom of my seat for the last four hours is going to earn you a thumping you will not long forget.

The only thing more irritating than the constant drumming of my ass by your foot is the way you grab the back of my seat and use it to lever yourself up when you head for the restroom... You drag the top of my seat back 8 or 10 inches, then release it to impact me between the shoulder blades.
It feels like there's enough kinetic energy there to fling a 3-pound slab of bacon to escape velocity and into Low-Earth Orbit.
The first time was a surprise; the third and fifth time you did it were more than just an irritation....
But you have now upped the ante by using my seat as a pivot-point to swing yourself down into your seat like an incontinent pole-dancing stripper with Parkinsons...
I am just barely able to suppress the urge to whack you upside your vacuous cranium so hard that you'd hum like a 10-penny finishing nail struck with a greasy ball-peen hammer.

Fock it the knuck off already.

TBG - ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ