10 Easy steps to plane travel success.
1: The weather. Plane is late due to stupid Florida. Normally, this is no big deal. I understand the miracle of flight and that tornadoes eat planes.
2: Connect-o-horror. Problem arises when it looks like the connecting flight is gonna leave without me due to the delay. I get called up and the nice lady swaps the connector to one that leaves an hour later at the next airport. Super. Sounds great. Better than waiting 6 hours for the next direct flight.
3: Enter the irony. Plane makes good time, excellentin fact. I check the big board when we land for the connecting gate number. Huzzah! It's 4 hours late (estimated) thus making the original "forget waiting 6 hours" plan look like it would have been a better idea.
4: Circumstance goes for the dick punch. A bit deflated, I scan the board some more. Looks like my original connector was delayed as well- and is currently boarding. A quick run down the airport and I spy the 2 folks I was to meet up with and fly out with. But, I don't have a ticket for this plane. I used to, an hour ago, but now I don't. Yay! So I solemnly turn my back on them.
5: Get in line. I head to the flight desk thing as the plane starts to board. As luck would have it, there is a lovely line full of angry people who want to go to Florida. (no joke) My kind of people! Ugh. I just need to get on the plane that is boarding right now to Chicago.
6. Dickery part one. They start announcing stand-by names for the flight I used to be on. I'm 10 deep in the help line, easy. I begin politely asking these Floridians if I could jump ahead to talk to the lady as you see time is important and that plane over there that is boarding is my target flight and yours isn't slated for another hour or so according to the big board. To which I receive several "nah, I was here first" replies and go fuck yourself stares.
7: Alls fair in dickery and dickery. Another name gets the stand-by call. No one replies. The lady calls out for any other stand-by folks. I leap ahead of the stupid Floridians and several stand-by folks shouting "wait, me" or something thick. Timidity and pleasantry will not win the day, I realize.
8: A plea on deaf ears. I go through the story and show my previous itinerary with the flight number. She looks sad and asks why I didn't come up earlier. I reply that the line was full of assholes who wouldn't let medi such a thing She says sorry, but there are no more seats. The only way one is to get one of those 2 people over there in the tunnel to give up their seat. Ugh. Well, at least it was a chance.
9. Southern fuckatality. I give the story and show my proofs to the lucky 2 and that their seat is in fact logically my seat as neither of them were on this plane originally. Fate has messed with my day and is there any chance you could see ti helping me out? The red headed Southern lady bitch wouldn't sell you a smile. She wasn't having any of it. So I turned to the other dude.
10. A human after all. Ignoring the redheaded lady's "ignoring you" gaze. I ask the business dude. He's cool with it and says no problem, go for it. So at the end of a tunnel of dickish humanity, a compassionate soul. Hooray for humans.
- Acon 2011 fun blog edition.
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5 comments:
Ahhh, business dude, eases the pain. He probably taught a kid how to tie a double windsor, cleaned the men's room and helped a bitch birth puppies while he waited for the next flight.
And he smells nice.
But, strangely, his big toes are on the outside of his feet.
Now I kind of wish I was going, just to continue making your life a living hell. :D
At least your mattress (probably) won't play 'Gonna Take You For A Ride' on ad nauseum repeat.
Were they Floridian greyhairs?
A particularly testy subspecies, I gather.
All that effort to go be a nerd with other nerds.
This is why our country is going to hell in handbag.
So I've been at the airport all morning, desperately trying to get to Chicago for a big investor meeting which could be the difference in my company filing for Chapter 11 and countless Americans losing their jobs. Due to some poor weather in our beautiful southern states, my previous flight(s) have been canceled or severely delayed. I manage to change airlines and get put on standby for a flight to Chicago. SUCCESS! There's a chance I can still save the company. The stewardess calls my name and I have my boarding pass. As I patiently wait for the elderly and families with their beautiful children to board the plane, a rather curious, slightly sweaty, gentleman approaches me. His hands are gnarled, he smells of Mountain Dew Code Red and pizza flavored Combos snacks. Chains rattle from his belt as he clutches a handful of comic books, pages soaked in grease from God knows what, while donning a maroon winter hat (in Florida in March!). Clearly the man is mentally deranged. After violently threatening the poor red-haired woman next to me, he turns his psychotic gaze on me, demanding that I hand over my ticket and boarding pass. In an effort to quiet the raging beast in his head, I cry "no problem, go for it." As I do, I motion for security but there is none to be seen. When I turn back around, the lunatic has already begun making his way on to the plane, stomping down the jetway in his dilapidated combat boots. Not only have I missed my meeting, destroying tens of thousands of lives, but I think he might be carrying some sort of home made detonation device in his pack. All hope is lost.
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