Uncle Jimbo Surrenders

After 13 hours on a plane last week, and countless run-ins with people needing to be vacuumed out of the gene pool, I simply must surrender. I'm just trying to find the addresses of the people I need to headbutt.

Here is, in no particular order, the people I am surrendering to:

1. The guy who thought taking 100 teenager Brazilians on a tour of the US would be good for them.

Note to this guy: Americans don't like smelly foreigners. Don't get me wrong I'm sure I stink of onion rings and root beer. But it's American stink on American soil. Leave your stink at home. We don't like foreigners or teenagers which basically means your kids are going to see the worst American hospitality has to offer.

2. The guy who wrote the computer software that drives seating assignments on airplanes.

Note to this guy: I'll find you, and I will kick you in the junk. Hard. I never get the well groomed, evenly tempered, professional next to me. It's like spinning the Wheel of Fortune and always landing on "Worst Travel Companion Possible."

3. The 14-year-old Brazilian that I had the displeasure of sitting next to for 8 hours on a classic, cramped 737.

Note to this kid: You reek six days to Carnival. Now it may have been caused by the fever and the wet hacking cough, but my guess is you stink regardless of your current health. As for the gaseous emanations, I can't believe the sweet little stinker next to you didn't get up and leave. I would have but I was trapped against the window. Thank God for the new book I had. The smell of new paper and ink was the only thing that saved me. If I could have moved enough to reach your carry-on bag I would have left you a nice steaming present for your hotel room in NYC. Tit for tit, or so Dwight Schrute says. Oh, and learn the language. Don't travel to a country where you can't speak with the natives. Why do you think I don't go to France....ok, there's a bunch of reasons for that but me not speaking the language is one of the considerate ones.

4. The flight attendants who decided it would be better to disappear than to show up for work.

Note to attendants: Next time you score a couple of big clients after your pole routine, just drop the airline a quick call to let them know you won't be able to make the flight. That way the rest of us can get home on time.

5. The verbose captain from flight 7734.

Note to pilot: STFU. After 5 hours of delays and corresponding explanations in excruciating detail we had enough. Just announce the delay and shut off the mike. In the old days, I would have pulled out my Swiss army knife, stormed the cockpit and done unspeakable things to you and your flight crew. Now I'm stuck sitting in 22A dizzy from the fumes, knowing full well that your getting-off on being paid for sitting on the ground.

6. Finally, I must find the mute and his retarded wife.

Note to mute and retard wife: Next time you want to sit down, try ASKING! Standing, staring, and pointing with your cane won't get you very far. A few guttural tones resembling words might get you a smile and the seat of your choice. As for the window seats at the terminal, yes, they are nice. But only when left uninterrupted by chatty rednecks and their mute common-law husbands.

Official terms of surrender for my current land holdings in the gene pool forthcoming.