I'm writing you this letter, because I assume that you read my blog faithfully. You do, don't you? Surely you need funny stories about bald eagles and baby poop in between stupid plots, don't you?
The reason I'm writing you is that I wanted you to know that I've officially decided that I hate you. I mean, it's not like I really liked you before, what with your only mission in life being blowing innocent people up, but if you ever thought I was on the fence before, well, let me clear it up for you. I. Hate. You.
Seriously, why is it you have to try to do something on a plane every time I'm out of the country. There was the time Sweetie Pie and I were in France and one of your buddies tried to light his shoes on fire. Yeah, it was really fun to fly out of the same airport two days after that. Oh, and for the record? Now my kid's light-up shoes practically caused the terror risk to be raised to red, because wires in shoes look mighty suspicious now. The good news is, his anal cavity is squeaky clean now.
So now, you go and decide that lighting up underwear is the way to go. Which means that my 7:45 a.m. flight was delayed by almost two hours, because it was taking people more than three hours to get through security.
And this is where I want to tell you you've messed with the wrong bitch, you little fundamentalist bitches. I had to get up at 4:20 in the morning to make that flight. In case you don't know this about me, I'm not happy at 4:20 in the morning.
I then had to go through security with a cranky husband and two young children, an ordeal that took 50 minutes, and it was that short because we were in the express lane for families with babies. Express my ass, is what I say.
And then, because of you, my children weren't allowed toys, blankets, nothing for the last hour of the flight. You clearly don't have children you fuckers, because if you did, you'd have enough consideration to not make the air safety people come up with the kind of rules that will make any mother try to smash her way through that tiny little airplane window.
Do you know how my kids ended up entertaining each other for about 30 minutes of that last hour? By beating the crap out of each other.
And since I was beyond caring at that point, I let them, I'll admit it. I let my kids just beat the shit out of each other because they were laughing and I figured there was bound to be a doctor on board, I know this from my flight attendant years.
So you see what you've reduced me to, you stupid terrorists? Probably one of my worst moments as a mother, and the bar wasn't even open for me to pretend I was somewhere else.
So how about you morons quit it and leave us travelers alone, ok? Because the airlines can barely keep their planes working, the weather is always plotting to shut down airports and there are about 100 other reasons for flights to be delayed. Last thing I need is you to freaking jump in the madness.
I hope you die in a pool of your own vomit,
Tuesday, January 05, 2010