Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Flying the friendly skies just got awkward

I'm not a good flyer. I need sedatives and whiskey to take off, and a good, solid buzz to navigate/tolerate airports. Additionally, airplanes have gotten noticeably smaller since I was 10. (Or maybe I've gotten noticeably larger. Whatever.)

And airport security doesn't help the experience: strip and hope you're not "randomly selected" for a bag check, because you have exactly 2 hours to wade through a sea of humanity, avoid that random fudge shop, and find your gate, that has inevitably been re-located clear across the airport.

$500 dollars later (including fudge shop), you're jammed into a cylindrical vehicle that smells like Grandma's house, and has upholstery from 1977, with safety instruction card to match. There's no clear rules on who gets which arm rest, you're inevitably stuck next to a ginormous fat guy that snores, and god-forbid you get the aisle seat: what you think will give you a little extra room will also get you hit by the drink cart.

And where the hell are my pretzels??

So, flying, expensive and aggravating already, may soon get even more uncomfortable. Great. I'm tired, aggravated, broke, squished in, scentually assaulted, and now my pants are jammed up into my lady-gear for the next two hours. Great.

And the airlines wonder why they're losing money...

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