Travel makes me cranky

Sam Hart

2007-06-12 14:59:34

I really hate travel... especially air-travel... and especially air-travel these days. Air-travel always sucked: piling people into tiny little compartments like we're sardines, seats always made for people MUCH shorter than me, smashed against hairy soap-salesmen from Minnesota with bad body odor who want to spend the entire time in the air talking about how damned fucking interesting the soap business is.... BAH.

But then you add in the extra idiotic stupidity... I mean security measures, and air-travel goes from unbearable to downright hellish. You get frisked, scanned and sniffed (the latter is especially annoying as it is accompanied by a significant amount of "puffing" as the machine tries to dislodge particulates off of you).

So I'm here sitting in the airport, my trip really hasn't even begun yet, and I was just frisked and felt up by a smelly geriatric with the warmth and personality of a sterile metal operating table who has a penchant for discussion how damned great America is and how much he supports the troops and our President. My laptop case was run through and my laptop was powered up only to confuse the pig-faced little troll who had never seen GRUB before and had no idea what Linux was, only knowing that it was suspicious enough to detain me. Surely, with my luck, my razor will turn on in my checked luggage and it will be held by some golem luggage thrower thinking it's a bomb.

But all of that isn't the worst of my suffering, hell no. What's worse is that after all of that, I get to sit here, next to a fucking young couple with two fucking screaming girls who let their damned girls run all over the place screaming and giggling without telling them to "shut the fuck up you're disturbing people!"

I've said it before, but I'll say it again:

Listen, dipshit, any sound that comes out of your child this side of a muffled breath is too much. To me, whether the sound is an estatic proclaimation of glee or the horror-shrieks of someone bleeding to death, it is the same thing when it emanates from the gullet of your prepubescent punk. I don't go all cooey and gaga over every utterance of your nescient neonate. In fact, the mere presence of your child in the room with me makes me all irritable and cranky.

And I get 8 hours of this shit today, with 4 hours of layovers. Fucking joy.