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I Just Flew In
by The Pirate
Today I’m traveling home. This is a very emotional time for me. Overwhelming joy at the prospect of being home again with my family and friends, tempered by the gauntlet of sheer stupidity, rudeness and the complete and utter lack of common sense that I am forced to run in order to get to the above-mentioned paradise. Traveling to my ship is much easier; I’m just pissed off at everything and have nothing to look forward to for the next month and a half. I wrote the following on the way to work, in an airport and airplane, five and a half weeks ago.
“I just flew in and man are my arms tired…” For me, flying is just like that-a really bad joke. I know I’m not as patient as I should be and I have little or no patience when it comes to others ineptitudes and lack of common fucking sense, especially if I’m paying for it, or I am traveling. Flying is one of those experiences that seem to accentuate the worst in some people. Not me, I mean other people. I’m a saint, like Mary Fucking Poppins-practically perfect in every way.
For instance, nearly everyone in the country has a bank account, be it overdrawn (like mine) or not. Of those people with accounts, I bet 99% have used an ATM more than once in their lives, no? Given that the majority of the adult population is ATM savvy, why is it that 9 out of 10 idiots that fly cannot figure out how to use an airline kiosk? Why do these brain-dead sheep-shaggers have to drag the ticket agent out from behind the counter and delay ME when the kiosk looks and operates just like the ATM 3 blocks from their goddamn house? OK, it gives you tickets instead of cash, but for fucks sake, it just shows you where you’re going and asks if you cool with that. If your not, get outta the airport and GO BACK HOME where you belong.
I must interrupt this tirade to report that some stranger just walked up to my table in the food court and said, “Here, let me get that for you,” and cleaned all my lunch garbage up. While he was hauling my trash to the bin, his wife commented that while he is a nice guy, she had no fucking clue why he was cleaning up after me. Should I be thankful or weirded out? I am both. Nobody does this shit in an airport. He’s back and seems to be a nice guy. His kids are polite. I’m cool, now.
Where was I? Assholes who can’t operate an airline kiosk should be kicked to the ground and pelted with rotten, maggoty fruit. Perhaps more to the point, they obviously lack the basic intelligence and life skills necessary to get from point A to point B, so they should at least be institutionalized and put on treadmills to generate electricity for the rest of us. Of course, I single out assholes at the kiosk for further observation and avoidance for the duration I am forced to reside in the same boarding area, or airplane as they. The kiosk is only the beginning of ignorant behavior, but at least I am forewarned. Now, the people that really chap my ass are the ones that manifest themselves only after boarding the aircraft. (Pause to traverse airport to bus exit and outside smoking area, smoke, warily eye other smokers warily eying me, re-enter airport and board my plane)
It is here, onboard the aircraft that my lack of patience punctures a fucking hole in my politeness and I tend to speak my mind, much to the dismay of the hapless fuckwits that cannot find their seat, despite the clearly marked rows and seats. I think I’ve flown somewhere around five to seven hundred thousand miles in the last few years and I’ve seen BLIND people reach right over, find the fucking Braille numbers, walk directly to their seat and sit down. My problem is that I don’t understand why a person with fully functioning arms, legs and eyes cannot manage the same trick. On a good day, I have been known to help these poor, lost souls who lose the ability to reason and read. On a bad day I might shove them face-first into the nearest empty seat and tell them to stay lest they hurt themselves. Still, these people are less of a pain than the Rule-Breakers.
The Rule-Breakers are the ones who I want to gut with a rusty boat hook. These bastards get no mercy from me and are the first people I will dress down loud enough that anyone they may make eye contact with for the duration of the flight will know they are staring back at an asshole that took a chance of fucking over other passengers because they just don’t give a fuck. If you bring extra bags onboard, you take someone else’s space in the luggage bin. You fucked over your fellow passengers and I want everyone to know it. If you carry on oversized luggage, you take extra space in the luggage bin, or worse, delay the flight when it has to be carried back off by the flight attendant, then stowed in cargo. How long does that take, asshole who’s 2 rows behind me? On a Boeing 757 B200 (5600) with the jet-way already retracted, approximately 45 minutes by my watch, today. You fucked us over and 25 rows of your fellow passengers heard me call you out on it. They all know. Can you hear them talking about you? I can. The little, old lady right behind your fat fucking ass has called you a prick, an asshole and a bastard, just in the last five minutes. I think she wants to kick your ass when we disembark and I’m going to hold you down in the jet-way while she does it. If she doesn’t, I swear by all that’s holy I am going to follow you off this plane and trip you. You are one hour and twelve minutes away from doing a face-plant as you walk out of the gate and though you don’t know it, you shouldn’t be surprised. I feel better already, just thinking about it. I’m smiling right now and you? You look uncomfortable with the other passengers staring and muttering. I see you trying to peek over my shoulder to see if I’m typing something about you and guess what? I am! Have a nice flight and I’ll see you at the gate…
Boy are The Pirate's arms tired...