New Year, new entry in the fabled epic goddamn journey know as "What's That Smell?"
Here we go...
My journey started the day before the actual journey. I had to book a slot on the Super Shuttle for super fucking early the next morning, and also for the first time in my aviation life; checking in to a flight online. I was a bit nervous about checking in online, because I had never done it and the damn website was only giving me a boarding pass for one of my two flights. So far, off to an uncertain start. The Super Shuttle thing went down easy and I also got like %15 off, which amounted to like $3.
However that night things got interesting. I didn't sleep well, partly because I stayed up late and was afraid that I would oversleep and miss my shuttle/flight. Another thing was that I for some reason had an extremely upset stomach. Every two hours I would wake up feeling like I was going to give birth out of my ass. Good times so far. When I actually woke up and took a shower I thought that it would be a better start. However two things happened. 1) The Super Shuttle guy was like 20 minutes late and 2) I felt like I had to take a massive shit but couldn't because I didn't know when this fucking guy would grace me with his presence. So I had to hold that bitch in ALL DAY.
I'm glad that I did check in online since the Super Shuttle guy was late. We got there with less than an hour to go before boarding and the line to get through security was hella long. I boarded the flight, got settled in next to my window seat and busted out a book I had been wanting to read for a while (Predator: Concrete Jungle; awesomeness). I ended up reading over 2/3's of it on the flight, but kept getting distracted because some ass hat was listening to one of the TED Talks from Sir Ken Robinson and laughing hysterically. Side note to this story....TED Talks are overrated, Ken Robinson is not funny, I don't know what Ken Robinson does for a living but he apparently thinks he is a god damn comedian. Seriously, every time I have heard/seen him speak, he seems to consciously script in laughter breaks. What a tool box. ANYWAYS...so this ass hat is laughing his stupid head off and I can hear him over me listening to Tommy by The Who.
Well, that flight lands and I have to run to the exact opposite end of the airport as usual. I find my terminal and chill out for a bit. Then about 20 minutes later we board and boy was I in for a doozy. Now if anyone has read any of the previous installments of What's That Smell?, you will have deduced that I am from Grand Forks; which is where I was headed. Grand Forks is home to the University of North Dakota. Among other things, UND has a world class aviation program and about 2.3 million fucking aviation nerds with it. About 100 of them ended up being on my flight. The whole way, and by the whole way, I mean the whole way; I had to listen to these losers backseat drive and criticize the pilot for the whole god damn flight. And on top of that, (here it comes) the plane had a weird smell (boom!). Why was that? Because a fucking crying baby (who also cried the whole way) was nice enough to take a shit, before take off. By the smell of it, he probably ate another baby's shit.
Well, that's that. Flying home in less than a week. More smelliness to follow!
Showing posts with label flying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flying. Show all posts
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
What's That Smell?: Part Five: Pizza and Smelly Grandmothers
And now for the next thrilling installment in What's That Smell?
This past July I took my semiannual trip back home to visit my family, that end was all that and a bag of potato chips, but as usual in these installments the focus is on my trip to the airport along with the flights and these ones were no exception.
I have decided that I like to just take the hassle out of my day and just take a shuttle to the airport, no fuss no muss. The only thing with that is that I am never the only one in the shuttle of course. In this trip it was fine until we picked up some old lady and her grand daughter, no big deal right? Well it wouldn't have been for 3 things: 1. this lady smelled like 4 days old B.O. (tie in to the title!) 2. she sat next to me (fuck my balls) and 3. her grand daughter fell into the stupid kid age (from when they can talk up to 18). Recipe for disaster. It would have been fine except that this lady couldn't handle the silence of the van ride. No, she had to make weird sounds and also when a fairly common pop song from the 70s' came on she hummed the melody...according to her that was. She made one up that had NOTHING to do with that song at all. Then it got quiet again and she tried to wake her grand daughter up who was sleepy and she said this to her "...you know when I was a kid to stay awake we played a game called Spot the Red Car..." Next thing you know "..one...two...three...four..." FUDGE.
So we get there and I pay $9,000 to check my bags and get fondled as I go through security; just like any other flight right? Everything was all good until we get on the plane, as I discover that I had the bitch seat. To go along with that, the two dicks to the left and right of me decide that the leg room they had wasn't enough and decided to annex mine for their own. Also why is it that when flight attendants come through and offer their cart o'crap they can't comprehend when I don't want anything? I mean, it's a 4 hour flight. Why can't some people just not stuff their faces? Anyways, we land and it's all good. Then I go to look for my connecting flight and run into an interesting gentleman, and that man's name was Bono.
His name was Greg Bonomanson and he was a fat ass who lived in Wisconsin and here is the conversation and chain of events that unfolded.
I'm taking my mac out to eject a DVD while sitting on a bench and Bono comes along and says "Hey, could you scoot down so I could sit down?" I said yes while thinking to myself: I'm on the edge. There are 3 other seats you fat bastard. Then he decided to make some small talk with me since I have something about me where people do that, which I normally don't mind. He asks what I do and I tell him I'm an art student/artist (you can be both right?). Then he proceeds to tell me that he sucks at art so bad that when he sees stuff around that he can do, he thinks it isn't art. How the hell do you respond to that inside of like 5 minutes? Well I didn't. I just indulged him so he would stop talking about it. Then when I left he asked for my name for the following reason: "...that way when you make it big, I can say "I met that guy in an airport before he made it big and he was a cool guy"". Thanks Bono.
The connecting flight was uneventful. Moving on to my return.
The first flight wasn't too bad. I had a row to myself and got complemented by the flight attendant for my Joe Mauer jersey. Once I found my terminal, I had some pizza and called my family so they knew I was there okay, since I'm a good person. My flight was supposed to leave at like 2:30 but board at 1:50 I think. Well it was 2:00 and I saw that my plane wasn't even there. I frantically look around to find out that they had moved my gate! Those assholes.
So I barely made it onto the plane and once again, I was in the bitch seat in row 653 of the plane, but again I got complimented by the flight attendant for my Joe Mauer jersey. On this flight I was seated between a guy who made no noise or movements, and a dude who I can only describe as being an odd combination of Michael Cuddyer and David Putty from Seinfeld. He was a trip. First he stared at the back of the chair in front of him for 45 minutes. Then fell asleep for 45 minutes. Then he went to take a shit. How do I know? He brought the smell back with him (another tie in to the title!). Then he bought 2 bottles of tequila along with a Coke and had them both. In 20 minutes. Yet he strangely just sat still and said nothing.
To fast forward and wrap this up, we landed and I lived. Tune in Januaryish for the next thrilling chapter of this epic god damn story!
This past July I took my semiannual trip back home to visit my family, that end was all that and a bag of potato chips, but as usual in these installments the focus is on my trip to the airport along with the flights and these ones were no exception.
I have decided that I like to just take the hassle out of my day and just take a shuttle to the airport, no fuss no muss. The only thing with that is that I am never the only one in the shuttle of course. In this trip it was fine until we picked up some old lady and her grand daughter, no big deal right? Well it wouldn't have been for 3 things: 1. this lady smelled like 4 days old B.O. (tie in to the title!) 2. she sat next to me (fuck my balls) and 3. her grand daughter fell into the stupid kid age (from when they can talk up to 18). Recipe for disaster. It would have been fine except that this lady couldn't handle the silence of the van ride. No, she had to make weird sounds and also when a fairly common pop song from the 70s' came on she hummed the melody...according to her that was. She made one up that had NOTHING to do with that song at all. Then it got quiet again and she tried to wake her grand daughter up who was sleepy and she said this to her "...you know when I was a kid to stay awake we played a game called Spot the Red Car..." Next thing you know "..one...two...three...four..." FUDGE.
So we get there and I pay $9,000 to check my bags and get fondled as I go through security; just like any other flight right? Everything was all good until we get on the plane, as I discover that I had the bitch seat. To go along with that, the two dicks to the left and right of me decide that the leg room they had wasn't enough and decided to annex mine for their own. Also why is it that when flight attendants come through and offer their cart o'crap they can't comprehend when I don't want anything? I mean, it's a 4 hour flight. Why can't some people just not stuff their faces? Anyways, we land and it's all good. Then I go to look for my connecting flight and run into an interesting gentleman, and that man's name was Bono.
His name was Greg Bonomanson and he was a fat ass who lived in Wisconsin and here is the conversation and chain of events that unfolded.
I'm taking my mac out to eject a DVD while sitting on a bench and Bono comes along and says "Hey, could you scoot down so I could sit down?" I said yes while thinking to myself: I'm on the edge. There are 3 other seats you fat bastard. Then he decided to make some small talk with me since I have something about me where people do that, which I normally don't mind. He asks what I do and I tell him I'm an art student/artist (you can be both right?). Then he proceeds to tell me that he sucks at art so bad that when he sees stuff around that he can do, he thinks it isn't art. How the hell do you respond to that inside of like 5 minutes? Well I didn't. I just indulged him so he would stop talking about it. Then when I left he asked for my name for the following reason: "...that way when you make it big, I can say "I met that guy in an airport before he made it big and he was a cool guy"". Thanks Bono.
The connecting flight was uneventful. Moving on to my return.
The first flight wasn't too bad. I had a row to myself and got complemented by the flight attendant for my Joe Mauer jersey. Once I found my terminal, I had some pizza and called my family so they knew I was there okay, since I'm a good person. My flight was supposed to leave at like 2:30 but board at 1:50 I think. Well it was 2:00 and I saw that my plane wasn't even there. I frantically look around to find out that they had moved my gate! Those assholes.
So I barely made it onto the plane and once again, I was in the bitch seat in row 653 of the plane, but again I got complimented by the flight attendant for my Joe Mauer jersey. On this flight I was seated between a guy who made no noise or movements, and a dude who I can only describe as being an odd combination of Michael Cuddyer and David Putty from Seinfeld. He was a trip. First he stared at the back of the chair in front of him for 45 minutes. Then fell asleep for 45 minutes. Then he went to take a shit. How do I know? He brought the smell back with him (another tie in to the title!). Then he bought 2 bottles of tequila along with a Coke and had them both. In 20 minutes. Yet he strangely just sat still and said nothing.
To fast forward and wrap this up, we landed and I lived. Tune in Januaryish for the next thrilling chapter of this epic god damn story!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)