Feet Me in St. Louis

Whose Feet Are Those? Negotiating Air-Travel Etiquette 

My brother Bill saw this article in the New York Times and immediately forwarded it to my other brother, Terence, and me, with the subject: Oh, Lord. I've never felt so not alone in my life -- we were beginning to think we were the only ones whose lives had been destroyed by this latest effort to hasten the end of civilization as we know it.

Stephanie Rosenbloom writes:

Forget paying extra for more legroom seats. These days I’d pay to sit next to someone who keeps his socks on. On recent flights I’ve had bare feet beside me, on the back of my armrest, on the bulkhead in front of me. Once, upon feeling something push through the sliver of space where the seat back and bottom meet, I reached behind me and grabbed a stranger’s toes.

Keep reading HERE.

And if you know where I can purchase an unregistered hand gun, please send me a private message. Thanks!