Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Hater J's Rant of the Week: Why I Hate Flying

Either I have a douche bag/asshole magnet or the world is just becoming more saturated with douche bags/assholes.

Today's flight to Detroit featured characters of all races and walks in life. My day at LaGuardia started with the ceremonial slow moving line towards a disgruntled TSA agent that would scribble his initials on my boarding pass and grunt, signaling that I should move along and let him continue to be miserable at his shitty job. I expect and accept that.

What pissed me off was the three year old, snot nosed, butt wipe that was inexcusably in a stroller (if you can walk, you should walk pal, your not the Emperor of China). Somehow this entitled little turd though it was funny to kick the back of my leg. Despite his mother's bang up parenting job of pleading and compromising with "Matty", he continued to do so. Parents of the world, don't make me suffer for your bad life decisions. I don't have kids, I don't want to deal with them, so if you can't control them in public, put them on a leash or keep them home.

After a ritual of two fast drinks for $23.89 at an uncomfortably warm airport bar, I was prepared for the main event, my flight to Detroit. My past flights to the Motor City include sitting next to a solid 400 pounder spilling over into my seat and forcing me to lean into the isle, which is not to be out done by the father and son tag team of "kick the back of the chair in front of you" on another trip (the future kick ball all-star was only about 5 and still sitting on his 6'3" dad's lap). It can't get worse than that but the boys and girls flying to Detroit always seem up for trying to one-up a terrible experience for me.

To the left of me in my broken chair (sorry flight attendant, I can't set my chair in the upright's broken) was a perp looking gentlemen who solidified his status by playing his underground reggae music using the speakerphone option on his boost mobile issued phoned. Eventually, the young perp was asked to turn off the device for take off, denying the good people of the flight a true cultural experience. But my story just couldn't end there. The middle aged Asian couple directly across from me (with matching perms) would not let the young perp have a solo moment. The second they were allowed to, they opened up their laptop and played what sounded like a Kung Fu movie for all to hear. After three or four kind folks asked them to turn it down...they decided to have a full force, super loud, conversation instead. I'm still trying to figure out if the movie was better.


  1. I'm putting it in my will that Hater J will replace me on 60 minutes when I die.

  2. At least I'm right about one thing, Laguardia is a shit hole.