Back to being a grown up

So I sit down at 10C on my flight home, and am pretty pleased with myself that I have the Emergency Exit row. I would be great at it. I eyeball the rest of the crew to see who I'll be shacking up with when the plane crashes and I wash up on an island and the blog becomes an episode of Lost. Forget the fact that we're not flying over water.....

Then seat 9C looks at me and says....
and I quote...

"Emergency exit row. (sizing me up in my oversized Winthrop Sweatshirt and baggy jeans) This could go either way. You sure your strong enough to handle it?"

Now obviously he hasn't seen the Olympic bag I'm carrying, and heard my big fat lie about being a professional athlete.

'I was in the luge bitch sit down.'

But I didn't say that. I just smiled and said....

'I'll just push you aside, and everyone will know which way to run even with all the smoke because you'll be screaming 'Please stop trampling me, I'm sitting in the emergency exit row!'

We didn't talk the rest of the flight.