This post is brought to you courtesy of three Bloody Marys and a Xanax.
A few weeks ago, I spent an entire hour ranting to a friend of mine about how much I hated everything and everyone. I don’t think I took a breath the entire time. At the end of my diatribe, she looked at me and calmly said, ‘I think you need to get away for a few days.’
Truer words were never spoken.
Turns out when everything and everyone in your life is bugging you, the problem is probably you.
And so began my Big Adventure.
As you may recall, my best friend lives in Ormond Beach. It’s a beautiful little town on the east coast of Florida, just outside of Daytona. Unfortunately, the closest airport into which one can take a direct flight is Orlando. Home, as I’m sure you are aware, of Disney World.
Because I was using frequent flier miles, there were scheduling limitations. My departure options were something like 4:45am, 5:47am, 10:00am, 5:00pm and 9:00pm. Like any normal person, I chose the 10:00am flight.
What. Was. I. THINKING???
When I got to the terminal, the waiting area was RIDDLED with squirming, screaming, crying children!
SIDE NOTE: They could have saved themselves a lot of waterboarding trouble and just stuck Khalid Sheikh Mohammad on a fucking flight to Orlando at 10:00 on a Saturday morning; he’d have given up Osama Bin Laden in less than 20 minutes.
Did I ever mention that I hate children? No, seriously. Aside from a very small handful of them (you know who you are,) I have ZERO tolerance for children under 10 years old. They’re intrusive, they have no manners, they’re demanding, and, most of all, they’re loud. Really loud. I blame their hapless parents, of course.
I found a modicum of comfort in the fact that I had enough frequent flier miles to upgrade to first class…until I realized that the only thing that separated my last row seat in first class from the first row of coach, which happened to house MOST OBNOXIOUS WOMAN ON THE PLANET (and her two temper tantrum-throwing children,) was a sheer curtain.
So, as if a plane full of screaming children wasn’t torturous enough, I had one of those over-the-top, nowhere-near-as-cute-as-she-thinks-she-is, baby-talking, captain-of-every-cheerleading-team-since-she-was-seven bitches sitting right behind me. Her kids’ screams were decibels above what would be considered safe for humans to endure, but I would have preferred to tolerate those than her disruptively loud, sing-song attempts to entertain them.
LOOK OUT THE WINDOW! I SEE A PLANE AND A CAR AND A TRUCK AND A SKY!
LOOK AT THE BOOK! HERE’S A DOLPHIN! WHAT SOUND DOES THE DOLPHIN MAKE?!?
WHEN THE PLANE TAKES OFF, WE’LL ASK THE NICE LADY FOR SNACKS! WE’LL ASK FOR PEANUTS OR CRACKERS OR JUICE! DO YOU LIKE JUICE?? DO YOU WANT JUICE??? YAY, APPLE JUICE!!!
I SEE A COCONUT! I’M GOING TO PUT A COCONUT ON YOUR HEAD AND YOUR HEAD!
I wanted to shove a coconut down her fucking throat.
Her husband? He was 17 rows behind her on the opposite side of the plane. A stroke of genius on his part, I’d say.
It’s normally about a 2.5 hour flight from Philly to Orlando. Not today, tho. No such luck for this
bitchy weary traveler. Just as every last hellion fastened their seatbelt, the pilot came on to tell us that something in the wheel well called the ‘grounding strip’ had come loose and needed more putty.
Yeah, you read that right. PUTTY.
Needless to say, I promptly ordered a Bloody Mary.
About a half hour later they told us we were good to go. Yay!
They started the engines and…wait…what?
‘This is your pilot. It seems the second engine wouldn’t start, so we’re going to have to pull into gate 16 and have the engine fixed. It should take about 60-90 minutes.”
Fortunately, the flight attendant, sensing that the other first-class passengers and I were at our wits end with cheerleader Barbie and her posse of screamers, wasted no time coming to take our drink orders.
Bloody Mary, please.
She brought me two, bless her heart. They were immediately used to wash down a Xanax.
She is my new best friend.
Sadly, my return flight is scheduled for Thursday afternoon. Tragically, not only were there no first-class seats available at the time I booked; the only thing available in coach was a center seat.
On the bright side, my fear of flying will not be a factor on the return flight. A plane crash would be a welcome relief.