Oh, travel woes again. I am pretty sure it is just my destiny in life- to get on any plane that is having some issues and to happen to board that plane with all of the biggest jackasses possible. Anytime I get caught up in some travel mess, I find that it is not the situation that I am in that I hate- it is the people that I am in the situation with that make it so terrible. As Sartre said "Hell is other people." So right indeed.
So this flightmare occurred on my way to Bahston for the 4th. I took a late flight out of NOLA and expected to arrive in Beantown around midnight. I had about an hour layover in Detroit- should have been plenty of time to grab some food, pee (I DO NOT pee on planes..... EVER), and get to my next flight. But, to paraphrase an old Mississippi State coach, after the plane took off 'lots went wrong.' (God bless Mississippi, the only state that looks Louisiana look good).
I was fortunate enough to have randomly selected a seat in front of a guy who made the cast of Jersey Shore look like Rhodes Scholars. He was apparently in New Orleans as a construction guy but was based out of Michigan. At one point, he asked the guy sitting next to him where he could see alligators because he really wanted to wrestle one and that "it couldn't be that bad, they were always doing it on tv." Really, if you think about it, that is a beautiful way to live life. I mean- magic must really exist, as do vampires, Jedis, and love stories where the nerdy person suddenly becomes hot and gets the cool kid in the class. To sum up the genius in seat 23B, I will give some stats and some quotes.
- Number of phone calls made or answered while still in the air: 4
- Number of times he used the phrase "I am going to make it rain": 20+
- Number of times he told his friend sitting next to him that he had a blind date: 12
- Number of times he referred to his blind date as a "bitch": 10 (as in that 'bitch' is going to looovvve me)
- While talking to the girl next to me: "Where are you flying to? Maryland? Where is that?"
- While talking to the girl next to me: "What's your name? That's a weird name. Where are you from? Where? West Africa? Is that like in Africa Africa?"
- While talking to the girl across the aisle from him: "Where are you from? Louisiana? No- I mean like are you French or something cause you look French. Oh- well I am French. Like good at French kissing, if you know what I mean."
We got to Detroit and began to circle the city. Around and around and around and around. The Captain made an announcement about bad weather in Detroit and needed to delay our landing. At this point, Einstein got really fed up and begin to make his first in a series of phone calls: "Man this is bullshit. This asshole says there is bad weather. I don't see shit. I am looking at the sunshine. Yall better wait at the bar for me. I am buyin shots for EVERYONE. I am gonna make it rain, yo." While ole' boy gave his experienced opinion on the meterological situation, a child three rows back screamed the ABCs for the 7th time. The child's mother interrupted him long enough to see if he wanted anymore candy. I cannot think of a recent situation which better highlighted the range of assholes that epitomize America. Don't get me wrong- I love this country- I get all choked up when I hear patriotic music- but it never ceases to amaze me how many people feel that their right to "Freedom of Speech" actually means that they are informed and strangers actually want to hear what they have to say.
In order to not completely lose it, I had to really focus on my breathing and start composing this post in my head. I quietly smiled to myself as I thought of multiple ways to describe this guy's stupidity as I counted his wonderful catch phrases.
After circling The Motor City for 45 minutes, the Captain made an announcement that we needed to land in Grand Rapids to refuel and wait for the weather to blow through Detroit. As you can imagine, this announcement did not go over really well- especially with the guy who was now standing up his blind date. There was a massive uproar and many a groan in which people bitched about their plans (emphasis on their because they were the only ones that had plans- honestly- when I fly- I usually just fly about without any plans). We landed in Grand Rapids, and I texted my friend in Boston to let her know what was going on. For some reason, my iphone kept autocorrecting Grand Rapids to Grand Rapists which leads me to believe that Apple has more advanced technology than they claim since apparently they could now autocorrect my words to match my situation and my mood.
We sat on the ground in Grand Rapids for about 45 minutes while the storm blew over Detroit. During this time, the asinine guy behind me somehow proceeded to get incredibly drunk even though I never saw a flight attendant serve him a drink. At one point, someone from the ground crew had to get on the plane to get an oxygen tank for another plane which prompted the idiot to shout "What!? I mean- Jesus Christ- if they need some help just send them to a fucking hospital." I would be incredibly upset, too, if I was missing a blind date with someone I had already nicknamed "Bitch."
We eventually got off the ground and got back to Detroit. When I got off of the plane- I checked the monitor- and realized that my flight to Boston had been delayed- it was 12:02- and I had until 12:10 to get to the flight. OK- not a problem. I can get there. Then I checked the gate information. My flight to Boston was at Gate A75. I was currently at Gate A6. That's right, A6. I took off. I sprinted between each moving sidewalk and then powerwalked on the sidewalks. I passed groups of people leisurely ambling. I was running like a bat out of hell in flats, a regular bra, jeans, and a long sleeve shirt. I swear that the concourse was over a mile long.
I got to the gate breathing like a heavy set mailman who has smoked his whole life and just got chased by the neighborhood dog. I was also sweating profusely. Grossly profusely. Like a dude. The great news was the plane was still there. I could not have been happier. Despite my life lesson of 'always carry underwear,' I did not have an extra pair on my person and was going to be an unhappy girl if I found myself sleeping on the airport floor again (for the second time in two months) with unfresh underwear.
I got on the plane and found my seat without making eye contact with anyone. I felt really bad for the woman who was sitting next to me. I used my long sleeve shirt to wipe the pools of sweat off of my face and tried my best to put my hair up in a way that didn't look like I just went through a natural disaster. I failed. We sat on the runway for a few minutes while other passengers got on the plane- the same passengers that were walking through the airport as I sprinted by them like a Kenyan in the Olympics. I got to Boston safe and sound- a little sweaty, gross hair, hungry, tired, and with a full bladder. But I got there. Surprisingly enough, my luggage made it too. While I skipped showering before I went to bed (so I would not wake up my friends), I absolutely put on some clean underwear and happily fell asleep in my final destination, with visions of alligators attacking idiots from Michigan dancing through my head.