Dear American Airlines ticket agent who waved me away when I tried to pay for our suitcases that were respectively 2 and 4.5 pounds overweight:

You’re awesome. And I’m sorry that I said, “You too!” when you told me to have a nice flight. I guess you probably get that all day.

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Dear American Airlines:

Would you please re-design your planes so the people who spend a good chunk of money to fly your airline could have maybe an extra couple of inches of legroom? In case you hadn’t noticed, people in this country are getting bigger, not smaller, and the fact that the seats keep getting tinier is really just cruel. All you’d have to do is take out maybe one row of seats to make the extra room. It’s gotten to the point that my husband and I decided that for our next flight, we’re going to have to buy our infant her own seat because there isn’t enough room for her to sit on our laps. It’s insane.

And I know, I know. Doing something radical like allowing there to be less seats on the plane might cut into your profit margins a teensy-tiny bit. But it won’t help you at all when passengers start jumping out of the emergency exit just so they can get rid of the damn charley horse that your stupid cramped seats gave them.

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Dear woman seated in 13F from Dallas to Seattle:

Thanks so much for flying with what appeared to be either the flu, or perhaps a mild case of tuberculosis. Really. My baby girl and I haven’t been nearly sick enough this winter, we really needed to be within close proximity of your germs, in a small metal tube with poor ventilation.

Also, thank you for keeping your seat reclined for the entire flight (even when you got up to go to the restroom!) which essentially pinned my 6’2″ husband in his seat so that he was totally unable to move. I know he appreciated that.

Oh, and I thought your kid was kind of annoying too – it bugged me that he kept looking back between the seats to see if I laughed every time he told his dad a knock-knock joke (and I know he’s young, but the kid needs to work on his delivery, because those jokes sucked). But there was really no need for you to shush him every time he opened his mouth.

Bitch.

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Dear 130 mph headwinds that made our flight a full hour longer than normal:

You suck.

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Dear car service that picked us up from the airport:

I love you. It was so nice to not have to catch the shuttle to the satellite airport parking lots, and then drive 25 miles back home. We’ll call you guys every time we have to go to the airport from now on.

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Dear my back:

I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll buy you a massage soon, but the massage therapist who we like is gone for the holidays. In the meantime, please stop hurting me.