our flight from the devil's version of heaven

i'm not much of a morning person, which is why i am just as surprised as you are that i was bright eyed and bushy tailed when my alarm went off at 5:00am. but i was. and so was Nikki. one thing was apparent: we were muy excited.

Danielle graciously dropped us off at the Alaska Terminal of LAX because that's what our iterniraries read - Alaska Airlines. but as the rude Alaska employee pointed out after we failed self check-in, "Operated by American Airlines" was written in a non-descript font near the bottom of the paper. WTF?

after a nice hike across LAX, we wish we were actually flying Alaska (which was DEAD) because American is bumpin'. Nikki flirts with one of the TSA guys, we skip the baggage line. we loudly whine while conveniently near another TSA worker that we may miss our flight, we skip to the front of the security line. things are finally looking up, and the memory of running past Hal Fishman and his creepy camera man is almost out of my mind. "let the good times roll," i say to myself.

well, come to find out, the only thing that would be rolling is the old man on the floor that was sitting two rows in front of us. i seriously thought he was having a heart attack, but maybe he shouldn't have tried to go to the bathroom while the plane was making it's initial ascent and the fasten seat belt sign was still on.

we are sitting in the very last row of this god damn airplane and Nikki often has an ass or a crotch (either gender) in her face when the line from the lavatory exceeds more than one person - which is 99% of the time. FYI, i could stick my finger in mouth right now if i really wanted to. that lucky bitch managed to fall back asleep again.

the knock off version of Three Six Mafia is sitting to our right - how many "hard core" gangsters do you know wear a white mesh fedora with Quiksilver shorts? yeah... me neither.

there is a lovely waft of piss scent that comes out of the air ducts every once in a while due to the fact that we're practically sitting in the bathroom.

our seats do not recline. sitting straight up and trying to sleep next to an odd man that keeps turning my reading light on for me much to my displeasure is not an easy task.

the in-flight movie is "Charlotte's Web".

my diet coke tastes likke it has arsenic in it. not that i've ever tasted arsenic before, but something definitely does not taste right and i'm tired and mellodramatic so if i want to say it's arsenic, i will.

(wow, talk about being a brat...)

the entire plane cabin wreaks of old people. if some one were to bottle a scent and label it "geriatric", this is for sure what it would smell like. there must be an entire retirement home on this freaking flight.

my iPod is about to die. are we there yet?

every once in a while the old man sitting in the row directly in front of us (not to be confused with the old man tworows in front of us who ate shit earlier. i still can't quite grasp what actually happened to him.) stands up, i have the distinct pleasure of seeing his ass crack. apparently the low rise jean trend does not have any age/gender barriers. sweet.

the only bright spot is that "Rockin' to Life" by These Guys just came up on random play on my soon to be dead iPod. you're just in time for the fun train? i wish...

one thing is now apparent: i need a drink.


NOTE:this blog entry was originally scribbled on a combination of torn out sudoku book pages and airplane napkins due to the lack of an electronic device with a normal battery capacity but perhaps most importantly to preserve the authenticity and explicit attnetion to detail of the above mentioned events.