Airports . . . I hate them! Not as much as malls, but they’re a very close second; especially during the holiday season.
They’re filled with angry people whining about how they’ve missed their connecting flights, bitching how the Cinnabon line is wrapping all the way around to the next gate, not enough outlets for their millions of electronic devices they’ve brought along to keep their children occupied. The experience is enough to make me hitchhike to my 650-mile destination.
In line I suffered in silence listening to a family of seven rehashing their horrible parking experience, and how their aging mother-in-law needs her travel Depends changed, I retreated to my “happy place” where the following items are not only allowed, but encouraged to bring on every flight around the globe:
3. Mace: The use of this product is sorely needed for PSI (Personal Space Invaders) who think its okay to lean against me and fall asleep while their fancy-sshmancy, snappychatty, iPhones and iPads are charging. I still use a flip phone – don’t judge me! However, as much as this infuriates me, it does have a positive side. I never wake them up until I’ve used all their data watching paid-per-view movies. If they’re going to use me as a pillow I think it’s only fair to use all of their data. By the way, I really enjoyed binge watching all 7-seasons of Game of Thrones and eating your Cinnabon.
2. Drugs: If you’ve ever had the pleasure of listening to a couple of aging women talking about their recent operations and all the plastic surgery they’ve had done in great detail, recreational drugs should be available in self-serve dispensers throughout the airport. But, the up side is . . . I now know five Guatemala doctors who can perform in-flight liposuction at a low cost. Score!
1. Snakes: I know what you’re thinking. There’s already a movie about snakes on a plane. But they were Hollywood snakes and members of SAG. But . . . back to my reason for snakes. Why snakes you may ask? People are deathly afraid of snakes. I find it extremely entertaining watching families, pardon the pun, take flight as I step onto the moving sidewalk, smiling from gate-to-gate with a 5-foot python wrapped around my shoulders. My snakes name is Mr. StayOutOfMyPersonalSpace, Jr. His grandfather’s name was GetTheHellAwayFromMe. I really miss him. He died in a tragic sporting accident after being stuffed in a can at a birthday party. But I digress.
Holiday travel brings out the best and worst in people. Make these three things legal and I guarantee your flight will be much more pleasant and you’ll thank me later . . . may I borrow your cell phone?