I know I’ve written a lot about flying on airplanes, but when you keep a daily blog and you fly with your entire family, it sucks so bad, it’s the only thing on your mind. I could regale you with some story of my youth, but I’m tired and nursing an O’Douls and a headache…that an O’Douls can’t cure.
We took two flights today which made everything three times as gnarly. That’s how tired I am – I went with “gnarly” and I’m not even positive I know what it means. Plus, I’ve never met anyone who said that word who didn’t deserve a quick unexpected back-of-the-head rabbit punch to help them shake off the their lift ticket personality.
Sorry, I was talking about flying. Sigh. You ever get that great seat in the back of the plane where only an inch thick beige plastic wall separates you from a 30 year old bathroom with linoleum floors saturated in the piss of a hundred thousand strangers? Yea? Me too. That’s where I sat, in a middle seat that doesn’t recline, flanked by my need locker, while a line of lavatory hopefuls blow their constipation farts into my breathing zone.
Delta airlines hasn’t upgraded the interiors of their “fleet” since 1978. You can still hear the ghostly voices of cheery stewardesses who just made admiral in the mile high club chanting “chicken or beef?” to a bunch of chain smokers on a half-empty plane. The leather on the seats is the same as a vintage Impala. Oh, but they have wireless! No TVs, just the slowest wireless in history for $8. When I tried to download the Cave Party episode of The Backyardigans from iTunes it said it would take 247 minutes (longer than the flight). Having Internet on a plane this old is like powering a cotton gin with a fusion reactor. For a company named after a statistical measure of change, you’d think they’d at least upgrade the barf bags which are still made of burlap and filled with coal to absorb the plague fumes.
When I “deplaned,” I could have sworn I saw Led Zeppelin piss drunk in first class canoodling with a stewardess named Phyllis.
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