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it just doesn't stop more crap you won't read useless pay no attention to that man behind the curtain! I'm Kind of a Big Deal previous previous next next
if I were an attractive female you'd all pay more attention
So, I have a few quick anecdotes to convey regarding my recent travel debacle.

1) There really needs to be some provision for fat people to purchase airline tickets- they need to be placed in extra large seats near the doughnut cart or something, away from the rest of the normal people. In a special "fat people" section of the plane. Have you ever sat next to a really fat person on a plane? The seats are just too damned small. It's like trying to fit a trout in a sardine can. I had to sit for a whole flight on the window side of a guy so fat he couldn't even get his elbows onto the armrests because his upper body fat (bitch tits) covered them up. Then, we were delayed on the ground for 40 minutes after we landed, so I got an extra helping of jelly-doughtnut goodness. Superb.

2) Speaking of fat people, the reason we were delayed on the ground was because of a major lightning storm, so everyone was delayed in the whole airport. So naturally, everyone was rushing to get to their flights, once they got inside the terminal. Well, I was sitting at my gate, and I started to hear this puffing and huffing and whiny moaning noise. I turn around to see this gargantuan specimen of feminine pulchritude powerwalking down the length of the concourse, sweating and groaning and looking like she was about to collapse of heart failure. I wouldn't find this as funny as I do, except for two things. The first is that after she passed, the two men and woman sitting around me all started laughing and making fun of her. The second is that she reminded me of Fatty McGee, from the Adam Sandler comedy CD. You can listen to Fatty McGee: http://www.massey-family.net/fattymcgee.mp3.

3) So, on my next flight, I get the very far, far rear window seat on the plane. The one where the seat doeesn't lean back and the ceiling starts to slope a little above your head. This was a very small plane, so there was one seat on the left side of each row, and two seats on the right side. So I was on the right. Suddenly, I see these two rather hairy-looking men in odd, out of date clothes walking towards the back seats of the plane. Then, I heard them talking in some Eastern-European language, and I began to panic. Because I knew what was coming, and sure enough, they took the seats to the left of me. I held my breath for a second and began to repeat in my head, "please don't stink, please don't stink." There I was, trapped in the back of the plane, next to these two men, and let's just say that, on that flight, my impromptu prayers went unanswered.

4) Speaking again, briefly about my odiferous companions, the one of them sitting next to me was fumbling with his seat belt for like three minutes. He was not excessively fat- he just seemed to have trouble with the concept of the belt. After about two minutes, I wanted to yell at him, "You know what? It's a seatbelt. The little end goes in the big end. If you can't figure that out, we'll have Tommy Boy come back here and hit you on the head with a tack hammer, because you're a RETARD."

5) Before I forget, while I was in the airport, I heard a page for someone named "Pearl Chism" to use the white courtesy phone. I bet if it wasn't before, the phone was white when "Pearl" was done with it.

6) On the way back, something strange happened. The first is that I was sitting in the terminal and I began to smell ham sandwich. The smell of ham sandwich was thick in the air. I stood up for a second, under the pretense of stretching my legs, and looked around. There was a man sitting right behind me that seemed to be the source of the smell. This wouldn't be strange, if, perhaps, the man had been holding or eating a ham sandwich, but he wasn't. This guy smelled like he had bathed in Ham Sandwich by Ralph Lauren, and there was no ham sandwich in sight.

7) So, for the last leg of my trip, I sat next to this woman who said she hadn't flown in like 25 years. And she kept talking, and talking and telling me her whole life story. One of the things she said was that she amazed that cell phones work on planes, as they're big metal tubes. I remarked that it only takes a couple windows for the signal to get in. Then, she said, "Well, my sister lives out in the country and even the trees block out her signal, and she fades out sometimes. " Wow. Now, that's some deductive reasoning for you. Her phone doesn't work because of the trees, not BECAUSE OF THE FACT THE SHE LIVES FAR OUT IN THE COUNTRY AND PROBABLY FAR AWAY FROM A CELL TOWER. I had to fall asleep so that she would stop talking to me.

Yes, friends, business travel still thrills me to the core.

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hey little fella, how are you doing today?: cranky cranky
soundtrack: "Graceland" by Paul Simon

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whiterice From: whiterice Date: June 27th, 2004 08:56 am (UTC) (link)
Ok, flying sucks. Especially on Southwest, where the rates are great, but the open seating has to go.

I was watching 50 First Dates last night with Carla and her friend Cheryl, and they mentioned the Callahan Institute, started by T.B. Callahan in Sandusky, OH. It's a Sandler flick, and I felt so proud to call the Tommy Boy reference that I jacked off all over Carla, Cheryl, the television, the refrigerator and a single sock that was in the living room.

Chris Farley is dead. Blows.
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