Airline Employees

The woes of this weary traveler are great, and not only do I now sympathize with those who have to travel all the time, but I flat out respect them.




I had the opportunity to travel to the far away land of Phoenix, and portions of the trip thus far have been down right ridiculous. If I was a weaker person, and usually I am, I might even go as far as to say it was unbearable.



Now let's take in to consideration I haven't flown for years upon years. The last time I graced the gorgeous skies was just a couple of weeks after 9/11. Yes, I can still see the national guardsman with their assault rifles and tank at the St. George Municipal Airport. I kid you not.



Even in the wake of that first horrible disaster, I was still only required to remove my belt when I went through security, and only because it was studded with metal. Everyone treated me like the patriotic American boy I am. The good people of the airlines who guided me through various layovers on my way to San Francisco were happy and smiling.



Fast forward to today and you will see a completely different situation in the airports. I guess being threatened by a boy with a bomb in his britches can really turn a country upside down. Despite being the same color as copy paper and having a Utah demeanor so thick one could slather it on a plate of green Jell-O with shredded carrots in it, I was still treated like a terrorist.



Before I continue the rant, I really must review airport employees. Yeah, I get that you have to deal with the scum of the earth, made scummier by days of travel sans bathing, but do you really have to take it out on the rest of the world? Don't you realize that by being monster buttheads you only make yourselves the punch line of every airport terminal joke there can possibly be?



For treating me and every other inexperienced traveler out there like hair on a public toilet, I have to say the airline employees deserve the next six months having to do body cavity searches on really hairy, unshowered and deodorantless rednecks. And those are just the women; the men are even worse.



So the so-called friendly folks at the airlines sent me a notice saying I could save time by checking in online. I did this in hopes of bypassing the long check in line that I hear is the bane of every traveler's existence.



I was overcome with joy and warm fuzzies when the skinny guy at the airport told me I didn't print off the correct page for the online check in, and I had to wait in a longer line. Hooray. Since I now had the opportunity to stand in line with all the other irate flyers, I had to refrain myself from just planting a giant, wet kiss on the skinny dude's face.



I really hope the sarcasm translates over to print.



Our flight was overbooked as well, so there was literally no room for carry-on luggage. Half of the people in my party had to check their bags. This made me all the more in love with the airline, because just a short three hours before boarding they made me pay twenty bucks to check my suitcase.



And now, because the airline peeps overbooked, everyone in line got to check their bags for free. That was just scandalous.



I had to stow my backpack under the seat in front of me, reducing an already cramped space into an area Houdini would find uncomfortable. The view out the window was of a really shiny wing that did nothing but reflect super bright sunlight into my eyes. Oh, and the chick to the left of me continued to sneeze on the back of the chair in front of her. It was nothing short of Disneyland fun.



I was also under the impression that flight attendants were supposed to be young, or at least good looking. I know I'm stereotyping here, but when I'm flying in a most uncomfortable way, it would be nice to have a bit of eye candy handing me a 3-ounce cup of Sprite.



Apparently, we were booked on the charity flight. I think some outreach program recruited senior citizens from an old folks' home and taught them to be flight attendants, because every single one of them was at least 60.



I was afraid they wouldn't be able to maneuver the drink cart down the tiny aisle and handle their walkers at the same time.



What retiree wakes up one day and says: "Gee, you know what would be fun for my twilight years? I should totally serve nuts to people on planes."



However, we didn't get any nuts on this flight.



For providing me, and I'm sure everyone else on the flight, with just an all around unpleasant experience, the airline folks should have to be strapped into a 2-foot-wide seat and stay there for the next week. They'll have to have stuff shoved under the seat in front of them so they can't stretch out their legs, and they'll have to be served one tiny portion of beverage by a geriatric man whose teeth keep falling out.



At least the flight from Las Vegas to Phoenix was only 20 minutes.



The adventures we had upon landing in Arizona are a different column all-together. All of it was worth it though. The trip we took was full of learning experiences and lots of fun, so I suppose having to brave a few hours dealing with the horrors of an airport was just a teeny price to pay.



Besides, it gave me plenty of material to write about. Thanks for being the punch line of my joke, airline people.