It’s that time of year…

The time of year when people travel back home for the holidays to share a little eggnog with their dysfunctional Aunt Jezebel, who smells like mothballs and whose lipstick perpetually runs into the cracks of her aged, two-pack-a-day lips.

Uncle Bill, after tossing back a few, will tell one or two lewd jokes while Grandpa’s head lolls forward, dangerously close to falling into his half-eaten plate of yams because he nodded off half way through Dad’s latest conspiracy theory.

Thousands of Americans pack their bags, stand in lines and let TSA touch their junk, then belly up to the little podium with the microphone like piggies to a teat, as soon as the flight attendant announces that final boarding is upon them.

One can only presume that among these happy travelers will be a considerable amount of our elected Congressmen and women, all returning to their respective districts - home for the holidays.

These men and women who have spent the better part of the year as bit players in the ever-unraveling skein of yarn we call the political process, during a campaign season that seems to have taken on a life of it’s own… these fine men and women, who have the power to decide (or not) about how far they’re willing to bend the rest of us over the kitchen table, vis à vis taxes - are now ready to get their Christmas on.

Have a little drink, open a few presents, eat some ham and perhaps even enjoy a little holiday nookie.

But before they can do any of that, they’re stuck on a plane. Think of them as the metaphorical motherf*cking snakes on the motherf*cking plane that caused Samuel L. Jackson so much consternation.

Whether they’re in first class or coach, they’re not unlike the rest of us. They’re forced to depend on the kindness of strangers in the form of a pilot, a few flight attendants, and a handful of guys tossing their Louis Vuittons into the belly of the aerodynamic beast with something less than apathy on their tired faces.

Like the rest of us, once they stow their carry-on, get belted in, make sure their tray table is locked and their seat in its upright position - once they taxi down the runway and the plane takes its first cumbersome boost from the ground into the air, they’re at the mercy of the flight staff.

…and, their fellow passengers.

Airplane flights are interesting, aren’t they? Very often, a feeling of community arises, particularly when the flight is long. People offer each other magazines, chat amiably, share snacks.

Or, it can go the other way…

I once witnessed the dissolution of a marriage on a flight from Florida to Las Vegas. It was like dinner theater, only there wasn’t any dinner. Another time, I saw a mother lose it - handing her toddler off to a stranger she’d just met so she could go cry in the port-a-stinker for a few minutes, before eventually emerging with puffy eyes and a mottled complexion.

Odd things tend to happen when a group of people are stuck in a small place for a long time with no ability to leave. You’re kind of at the mercy of your fellow fliers.

So, let’s picture our group; students, senior citizens, teachers, lawyers, doctors, janitors, stay-at-home moms and laborers all sitting in their assigned seats next to, across from, behind or in front of the Congressman or woman, who is at this very moment, fidgeting in their chair, consulting their iPhone, or about to dive into the latest John Sanford novel.

A nice microcosm of America on a plane with a couple of hours of downtime ahead of them.

Now, I have a proposal. Actually a proposal wrapped in a premise. Okay, a proposal wrapped in a premise with a naughty foil bow we’ll call a challenge.

What if, during this couple of hours of downtime, the little old lady sitting next to, let’s say, Mitch McConnell, decides it might be a great opportunity to get a bit of face time as they slice through the clouds on their way to Kentucky?

What if little old Mildred has a few questions for Mitch - a couple of things she wants to go over with him - you know, American to elected politician.

And what if on his trip back to Ohio, John Boehner has the extreme pleasure of being seated next to Bob. Bob is just returning from Iraq and has a few things he’d like to get off his chest about what’s been going on while he was gone. And let’s say fifteen of his Army brothers are seated across the aisle, and they have a few questions of their own. And perhaps a few suggestions.

On Eric Cantor’s flight back to Virginia, a group of Sisters of the Holy Trinity and two iron workers decide they’d like to discuss why he’s got such a bug in his BVD’s about he possibility of taxing the richest Americans at a rate that might seem even remotely fair. One of the iron workers has a flip-cam and he’s pretty insistent (though respectful) about getting his questions answered so he can pass them along to his 15,000 Twitter followers.

My fellow Americans… I suggest to you, if you find yourself on an airplane this holiday season, and you notice that one of our elected officials also happens to be on that plane - well I’m certain that elected official couldn’t possibly take issue with you voicing a few of your concerns, or asking a question or two. Let’s give them the benefit of the doubt - perhaps these fine men and women who we elected and who we pay have just been too busy, as of late, to listen to our concerns.

Methinks, though, it would be even more interesting if some organized group of Americans decided to #occupy these random seats and arrange a mass mid-air chit-chat with a few dozen or so of our Senators and House members.

Because it’s one thing to wax poetic in front of your fellow Congressmen while you stand behind a podium and try to jockey for political position as the CSPAN cameras whirr quietly in the distance. It’s an altogether different thing when you’re sitting elbow to elbow with a few real Americans who have nothing but time - and there’s a couple thousand air miles between you and sweet, sweet freedom.

Though I certainly wouldn’t suggest doing anything that would break any mid-air rules or laws, there aren’t any laws against talking to a fellow passenger.

Not yet, anyway.

So I’d like to exclaim, to those on the left AND the right,

Merry Christmas to all… and to all a good flight.

(AUTHOR’S HELPFUL NOTE: Might I also suggest approaching your Congressman while he is dining at his favorite eatery, standing in front of a urinal, waiting in line at the drug store, and/or any number of other public places where it’s perfectly reasonable that the average citizen might run into his or her lawmaker. Nothing says lovin’ like a twenty minute forced conversation as Senator Whoever is trying to take a leak, enjoy a meal, or waiting to purchase his Metamucil.)