It's time. Fog has crippled the Houston airport. My flight's been cancelled. I'm funneled to an earlier flight and placed next to an older gentleman incapable of using words like "excuse me" or "please." Common usage may or may include phrases like, "Excuse me, I believe your sitting in my seat." i wonder if this is a tactic espoused by the Ted Turner biography that his clumsy middle management hands thumb through so voraciously.
I imagine him as one of those bonus recipients that our great new presidenet Obama is so publicly shaming right now. I imagine a whole section of the plane devoted to him and his ilk. Coach. 1st class. Asshat. He's grossly impatient. I hear him mention a board meeting in Houston. Somehow, being brusque will get us there faster.
I want to turn to him and say, "Dude. Sir. I realize that you feel like you're a very important person and all. But. Seriously. Are you trying to make this flight feel eight hours longer?"
I imagine his stunned reaction as someone actually tells him face to face, "Sort your shit out. Dude. Sir."
That's right, mofo. It's e.m.pennington, word ronin extraordinaire versus your blood pressure medication.
And then I realize, as we are inflight to Houston to Austin for South By SouthWest, that the adventure is only beginning.
Wheee!
No comments:
Post a Comment