Poissonnerie. Pauliac. Bordeaux.

I don’t know what it is, but something about flying seems to turn otherwise genteel, intelligent, sentient beings into thoughtless bullies and boors.

Whether it’s the woman in front of you who fully reclines her seat during the meal service, or the man behind you who keeps jabbing the touch screen like it’s done him wrong, a ticket to fly does not grant one license to jettison manners.

Continue reading “Jerks on a Plane” on Huffington Post Travel