Monday, November 26, 2007

Why I hate Philadelphia, US Airways and Hot Pockets

I was delayed on a flight out before Christmas during 2005 and then had layover in Philadelphia. When the plane finally boarded, we sat on the runway for an hour before the pilot came on with an overhead announcement “As some of you folks may be aware of, our flight crew is going to be unable to complete this trip due to overtime regulations…and ah soo ahh, you are going to have to get your bags and get off the plane...”

I sat straight up in my seat, which clearly was not erect enough. “WHAT! Are you kidding me? I don’t need a flight crew, I need a pilot! That’s all I need. I don’t need some retard to hand out pretzels ….who needs snack packs? If anyone doesn’t already know how to operate their goddamn air mask, get the fuck off the plane and let the rest of us go with the pilot!"
I was asked to get off the plane.

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray Philadelphia gets wiped off the map
Is that not how the prayer goes?

As we all exited the plane into the Philadelphia airport, otherwise known as, The Gates of Hell, I did what any smart young women would do when she was alone, I headed straight for the Airport Bar. Nothing like being an alcoholic on Christmas! I grabbed one of the last stools seated at the bar and ordered four gin and tonics, to take the edge off.

Four young guys standing near the bar turned around to talk with me. The one alpha head dog of the group turned to me and goes “ You are fairly small aren’t you?” I looked at him and go, “Small? Um yes, I guess. How did you know that? I am sitting down. And I am wearing a coat. With fur.”
He gave me a once over and goes “Well, you look very, you know… compact.”


Anddddddd conversation was over.

The bar closed around midnight and knowing I would not be able to catch a flight out until the next morning I searched the airport for a decent place to sleep. I found a row of couches near the back gates. A guy, doing the same as me, offered for me to sit and watch DVD’s with him on his laptop. So we stretched out on the lovely airport carpeting which ironically didn’t smell like diapers AT ALL and watched Men in Black ….essentially I spent half of the movie trying to suffocate myself in between the blue carpeting. It was fairly romantic, just me, him, and 500 other stranded passengers snoring around us.

The airline was nice enough to offer us these blankets that apparently seemed to be made of tinfoil…which if I was ever going to make a blanket, I think tinfoil would be the direction I would go in too. These huge silver sheets were supposed to wrap around us to keep in the warmth. Two guys next to me were securing theirs up to their heads when one looked over at the other and proclaimed, “Dude! You look like a Hot Pocket!”

The next morning I was one of the lucky few to catch a 6am flight out of Philadelphia to Fort Lauderdale. Which was still pretty far away from where I was going, but hey I would have taken a plane to Zimbabwe at that moment, anything to get me the fuck out of Philadelphia.

Praying for a hot pocket blanket to wrap baby Jesus in