Monday, July 18, 2011

Day 181: Turbulence at Southwest

2011 Total Earnings: $12,237

Today's Contest: Princess Cruise Sweepstakes
Prize: Cruise to the Caribbean (with no Southwest involved at all)
How to enter: Online submish here:

LAWD let me never fly Southwest airline again!!!! I’m flying to Chicago for work.
First of all, Seating is like a cruel lottery (not as cruel as the Shirley Jackson story….look it up…scarryyyyyy).

You are hearded like cattle into groups A B and C where you slowly a mooooved onto the plane and get your seat in a first come first serve sitch. Group C…sucks to be you. Middle Seat City.

PS-The plane was late and as soon as the people finished getting off the plane, we were boarded. I don’t know what they did...if anything... to clean the plane inside, but at least give me the illusion that the air waitresses did their clean up job of all the trail mix bags in the seat pockets. Airwaitress...that's what I called her at first "Excuse me Airwaitress..." Then she shot me a look of death and said "It's Flight Attendant."

Then came the great wait on the tarmac. About an hour. With a screaming baby. Neither of these are are admietedly the airline's fault, but I needed to point a big gigantic finger somewhere. And the heat! Sitting in a gigantic tin can with flippers on a black tarmac…we were berrrrled to a medium rare. "Airwairtrees, please a water, or a fan, or some merrl supert." I longed for the days like in the movie Airplane where the kind airwaitress played "There is only one river" to assuage the nerves of that young girl on the drip. Sure she nearly killed her with her overzealous playing by knocking out the tubbing, but her intentions were pure.

Oh, and you can’t line up to use the front bathroom…because of 9/11 attacks...they think you're going to bang down the cockpit door. So you have to wait until that lavatory (gross word) sign goes green then make a mad, forceful dash from your seat, pushing out any old Latina lady in your way.

Cut to the guy infront of my masked like a white rapper from 1991 slash. He was a little cray cray slash on coke...swaying back and forth like a jihadist.

Did I mention the baby screamed for an hour? In my head I invented a sleeping compartment for screaming babies…something that involves chloroform whisky on the gums and a sound proof shield.

Drink orders arrived. The woman next to me got cans of soda. I just got a cup. Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmm??????
Sure I could ask for a can, but this rage that I’m digesting tastes much better than the honey roasted peanuts from 1987 they gave out.

As we landed (which was totally painful slash frightening) the abnoxsh teenage girl who was fighting with her mom the whole plan ride, and making oragami out of dollar bills opened her mouth ever so slightly...
Worst. Planeride. Ever.

-Totes, betch.

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