Nov 16th 2010
2am on flight to sfo
Jesus fucking tap dancing Christ, this plane is bouncing around like a pin ball about to earn a free game! A note here to the indiscriminate God I pray to; when I asked you to help me get over my fear of flying, I didn’t mean shake it the hell out of me at 10,000 feet, over and over again, flight after flight. I swear! It’s been every time I get in the air for the past five years at least. Like I’m just close enough for the good lord to rail his fist at me, and he’s making good use of the opportunity. Why not strike me down? Why not just a simple bolt of lightning, or an exploding engine, or flock of misdirected geese flying south late due to global warming? Oh I know damn well why? That would be way too easy! The sweet release of empty painless black nothingness. No more bills, or backache, or dealing with shitty renters, no more painful lessons learned, or agonizing over passing them on to others who will inevitably have to learn them on their own anyway. No, no, death by plane crash is for happy people with no heavy class load of life learning in process. Flight 305 to San Francisco, you can thank me for keeping you safe during this rodeo bull ride flight; but no thanks is necessary, I suck the sweet nectar from within this bitter flower of life any chance I get. It’s thanks enough that you all follow the rules enough to allow me to dance around them. You get in line for check in when they call your zone; I never do, I always wait until your on board. You bitch at the flight gate attendant about our six hour delay, while I smile at them before I go get a yummy meal with the free meal vouchers they gave out because you pitched a fit. You sit there waiting…
Who the hell keeps farting!!!???
I hope that’s not me. I mean I have been a little but I swear, they haven’t been stinky. Not like that anyway! The old lady keeps putting her handkerchief up to her nose, ha! A slick diversionary tactic; but it’s probably your diversion to cover up for your husband… or it’s me. We’ll never know.
Anyway, your there waiting there wondering oh flight 305, if we’re going to even take off at all, probably whining to your neighbor about it, and how you’re not going to make your date tonight. Poor things, I’ve already got a free hotel, ride to my rental car, drinks, a $25 credit, and a full refund of my fare.
This is optimism in practice! (you thought I forgot) Well, it’s optimism, and the experience of having this kind of thing happen before not too long ago. (I want to say it was in Miami on the way home from St. John V.I.) And this is the opportunity to interject a little point I wanted to make, but didn’t know where to…
Dwelling on past injustices only makes you feel bad, it never helps, it’s past tense pessimism, and can only put that energy into your future present. Not that you should forget, no, not at all, you should learn from the experience and get free stuff!!!
No, that one was definitely not me! At least that time. I wanna say it came from in front of me but the blower is coming from the left and it’s hard to say.
Anyway, I snuck on the flight anyway, and so did the five other people I told to call in and get refunds. Yes there’s a reason my our ticket aren’t reading honey, it’s because we’ve been refunded and cleared from the system (we’ll see if the refund sticks); but if it does, I’m gonna call “guest relations” like the lady on the phone said to, and tell them how “inconvenienced” I was by the whole debacle and maybe even get a free flight for not telling all my friends via FaceBook, and my loud mouth, how much you screwed up my travel plans, Virgin America.
Ok, that one was me, but the plane was shaking really bad, and I’m not going to make this poor old couple get up for me to go to the bathroom. They probably can’t smell anyway, and that whiny little brat in front of me deserves it; and so does his mom for not teaching him some patience, “I want a diet Coke! I want diet Coke mommy! Ahhhh, I want diet coke, diet cooooke! Who the hell let’s their kid have diet Coke anyway?
But Oh, Virgin America, how you dolled out the vouchers, and free headphones, and wooed and apologized, and how fancy and stylish your planes are, and with your little in-seat t.v.’s I can watch The Daily Show with Jon Stewart while reading his book, “Naked Pictures of Famous People”, which I must say is utter trash. I mean, and let me say as a huge Jon Stewart fan, this book is only moderately funny at best toilet reading and/or a quick inside joke for Jews; which as it’s a national best seller, goes to show that at least in 1998, there were lot’s of people reading on the toilet, and lot’s of Jews desperately looking for a new Woody Allen. This book does not showcase the now seen talents of our Jew-star of today, who I recently traveled a thousand miles to see speak at a rally in Washington D.C. . No, this book pretty much just stinks.
Speaking of, I’ve got to make these poor folks get up, I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know what the hell they put in that free voucher smoothie, but it’s not only keeping me protected from illness with it’s green tea antioxidants, it’s fighting them off by creating a methane cloud three feet in every direction.
So apparently it has, come down to shit, as it so often does…
I can tell by the look of the quintessentially gay steward that he is assuming that, judging by amount of time I spent in the restroom, I just rubbed one off. Well, sorry buddy, I took care of that on the two hour drive from Sarasota to Orlando, and I’m not a two in a day kind of chap.
On the way back to my seat, I was hit with some serious mustard gas, just about where I left a fog of my own on the way to the restroom. That’s karma! And now the elderly couple has made a surprise move and switched seats with each other. But why? Is it because the lady is embarrassed about her emanations, and wants to share them with the other passengers, or because she thinks the extra two feet will help dissipate my intrusions into her nasal passageways. Nope, it’s so her husband can join forces with me in our harmony of nasal offending orchestra. I swear it’s not him alone though, this whole flight has fucked up gas! Damn those vouchers!
So as I was saying, this book I’m reading is shit. Pure and utter shit. It is also a national best seller, and a short, segmented, 1000 word average per entry read.
Oh, my God!!! We are bouncing around like a crack head who just won a $50 lottery scratch off. The elderly couple are looking nervous, but I can see their comfort in being perplexed about how I can be typing right now. I don’t give a fuck! That’s why I’m typing, we’re either gonna crash or we ain’t! And, if we don’t I wanna get this finished! Bring it on, atmospheric disturbances!!! Ahh!!!
Sop, theis book, sheit, besat selleeir. Sheort, ssegffmenteed, 19300 weorrds whatoeifever…
No, seriously, it’s like that.
Oh, really,??? Now? I guess being scared witless and jarred might make you let one go, but come on, on top of all this?! Maybe grandpa filled his Depends. I wouldn’t blame him at this point. I’m glad I went earlier! I can’t even remember what the hell I was writing about. At least if the oxygen masks come down, we can get some fresh air…
And now a low laptop battery warning! Hahaha! Maddening! I love it!
Well, real quick…
The book… shit… but wildly inspiring.
It’s always worthless comedy or dry self help, why never both?
So that’s what I’m gonna shoot for, and that’s why this flight is not gonna crash. (maybe)
I see that this is the meaning of my life, at least for today, assuming we don’t crash. (again, big maybe)
I will assume, (upon landing) that the world needs my humor, with a side helping of “hey, no, really, I’m that fucked up and I can do it. So can you.”
I promise only my honesty, and to do my best, (which may suck, and be lazy from time to time).
(2 hrs later)
We landed!!! It’s a sign. The world needs me. I knew it.
So about this optimism…
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