Thursday, August 14, 2008

My Newfound Respect for The Hulk

A couple months back, I flew out of state for a graduation. This is the story of the flights, which earned me a new respect for The Hulk, or more accurately Dr. Bruce Banner - because I now completely understand the inner struggle of a man wrestling with his own impulses to irreparably bludgeon all lifeforms within a hundred foot radius.

Flight 1 - LaGuardia to Tampa. I was sat separately from my travel companion. She was sat somewhere that I can only imagine must've been like a re-enactment of the game Candyland compared to my complete and utter shafting by God. Why? Because I was the meat in a fat sandwich.
Three seats, I'm in the middle. The lady on the left of me is fat, but we're talking acceptably fat, like weighs less than 300 lbs probably fat. The lady on the right of me is an obese space cow who reeks of Wal-Mart branded perfume splashed liberally across her Crisco-sweating rolls. Now I should point out that I don't hate fat people. I used to be a fat person (though not fat enough to be counted as "people"). However, I figure if I have to spend like $300 to get on the plane and I weigh like 170 lbs, if you weigh like 970 lbs (conservatively speaking) then you should probably have to get shipped by UPS.

Now, the positive side of this is that the flight was incredibly cold, so I kind of was thankful for her commitment to overeating, because her leftish side fat rolls served as a sort of lard blanket. As if it wasn't enough to be drowning in a sea of greasy disgustingness, in front of me were two bad kids with one lazy parent, and they had another bad kid and another lazy parent across the aisle. AND, the stewardesses were out of coffee by the time they got to me. Did I mention we got up at like 430am to get this godforsaken flight? Jesus for the love of God, jesus. I have no clue the accuracy of that sentence structure nor do I care. Roughly 3 hours later we were on the ground in Tampa, and despite its being like 100 degrees, it was insanely awesome to be able to move freely once more, and to be able to begin to attempt to shake off the faint smell of ham that had been burrowing its way into my pores. I am really glad this plane did not crash, because I'm pretty sure that one of these fatties would have eaten me even if I was still alive.

Flight 2 - two days later. We have a layover, so two planes. Hooray! I don't really remember much about this flight, though we were able to sit together. It was about 4pm. I got ENTIRELY shafted by the stewardesses again. The only thing that was keeping me sane (I hadn't eaten as I'm not willing to spend $10 on off-brand airport food - what am I, a millionaire?) was that I was going to get some little packet of cookies or something. They offered, "cookies, crackers with cheese, or peanuts." They should've said, "fake cookies that are like crackers and for ladies, wheat crackers with cheese, or peanuts." See, their "cookies," if one would be so brazen as to refer to them as such, are like biscottis that have been wiped in a cinnamon excreting raccoon's ass. Lame. Peanuts are just like really pathetic cashews, so that was a pass regardless. But cheese and crackers? Hell yeah! I'll eat that! Handi-snacks be praised! NO. These were WHEAT crackers. These are not edible by man. They will come out of your butthole with the exact same sharp inedible corners they went in with. It's essentially like putting Ohio drivers in your stomach and hoping they don't go like 5. It's never going to happen. (After the fact, since I found out that the cheese in these abysmal monstrosities wasn't even cheese - it had like wheatgrass swirled into it or some other live-forever hippie tasteless drecch horseshit. Jesus Delta, what the hell is wrong with you?) There were also bad kids in front of us on this plane. This family of Powder-ass looking blondes - again 4 kids 2 parents. High-pitched noises are overrated. And if the children are our future, the future looks a lot like rampant consumerism without any regard for hard work or responsibility. It looks like entitlement, written in the font of Hannah Montana and the Olsen Twins' logos. The future is going to suck. Thanks you punkass kids.

Flight 3 - I have since had a smoke and gotten a sandwich from Quizno's which I now believe had a secret ingredient called botulism. It was at this point that I really had to work hard to not murder people. I seriously was walking around the terminal aimlessly muttering softly to myself, "must... contain... murderous... rage," and this is why I'm sorta glad that I wasn't raised as a Soprano or something. If I thought I was untouchable, my god the pain I would bring upon this world. Anyway, the last flight was pretty good in terms of people, but the plane sat like maybe 60 people, so like every bump made you want to vomit or have your head explode or something.
The point is, if there is a point, planes suck. Fat people suck. Kids suck. All I wanted was some goddamn regular ass cheese crackers you ass-skanks. Just some regular ass cheese crackers.


No comments: