I just love a nice maddening experience at the goddamn airport. I love the airport because, like most people, I don’t want to live forever and I’m on a perpetual hunt for ways to hasten my inevitable doom without having to pull the trigger personally.
Figure 1: Are you ready to get mad?
Fun at the airport starts when you arrive at the check-in counter. This part is the most enjoyable of the entire experience because you get to pick your poison:
- E-Check-In: there are dozens of little booths that let you punch in a confirmation number, scan a passport, or use some other means for the computer to look up your flight and either a.) print out your tickets and send you on your way, or b.) tell you that your motherfucking flight has been canceled for no goddamn reason, so you can go stand your monkey ass in line with all the people who are doing…
- Standard Check-In: this is a line full of people who are trying to figure out why the hell their flights are canceled, people who can’t fly anywhere without taking everything they’ve ever owned with them, or people who fit neither criteria and are too dumb to realize that you can just use E-Check-In. In other words, the Standard Check-In line, which is always at least 5 nautical miles long, is filled with people who are angry, high-maintenance, or just downright retarded.
Figure 2: Hopeless
Next we make our way to the security checkpoint which is the greatest harbinger of impending American macro-level failure you will ever find anywhere outside of West Virginia (unless, of course, you’re actually in an airport in West Virginia – which you’re about as likely to find as a psych ward in an animal hospital).
If you’ve ever wanted a front row seat to human stupidity, you can use the 40 – 60 minutes you’ll spend in the security line observing the behavior of both passengers and TSA employees, which will almost certainly include people doing the following:
- Showing up without ID to verify their identity on the boarding pass to the TSA gatekeeper
- Taking off one shoe but not the other before going through the metal detector (I cannot believe this shit actually happened yesterday)
- Trying to send shit like gallons of orange juice through the X-ray detectors, then being forced to drink the whole thing before proceeding
- TSA employees allowing really really suspect shit (like the 8 rolls of quarters I had in my bookbag for some reason) to pass through screening without a second thought
- Walking through the metal detector, setting it off with their belts, removing said belt, and walking back through the metal detector WITH THE BELT IN THEIR HANDS, thus setting off the metal detector again
Figure 3: More hopeless than Figure 2
If you manage to get through these first two hoops without killing yourself/others, you get to take a nice long walk to wherever the hell your terminal and gate are. And when I say ‘long walk’, I really mean ‘death march’. Whereas the security line is ripe with the consequences of people being stupid, the march to the terminal is teeming with the consequences of Americans being inordinately fat. Here are some of the little trinkets you’ll encounter during your stroll through Bataan:
1.) Huge crowds of slow-moving motherfucking people. There are few things on the planet more annoying than a bunch of fat fucks walking around at 2.3 mph because they don’t know where the hell they’re going, so they feel the best thing to do is corral themselves and their plump ass kids in the middle of the hallway, take up as much room as possible (which is very easy to do when you’re a fat fuck), and waddle around looking at airport signs with an expression on your face like you’re reading the instruction manual for the international fucking space station.
2.) People standing on the conveyor belts. Wherever there is a long straightaway between concourses, there are conveyor belts that help people get from one end to the other in a more timely fashion. At least, that’s what they were designed for. What actually happens, however, is that fat motherfucking people use these belts as a place to park their giant Metal-Gear sized asses and think about what they’re going to eat in five minutes without being hindered by the monumentally difficult task of putting one foot in front of the other. This forces you to abandon the conveyor belt and sprint unassisted down the long hallway as you pass fat fucks on the conveyor belt breathing heavily because, though they don’t have to walk, they still have to stand up.
Figure 4: SBPH Airport
You’re relatively safe once you get to your gate. Usually the worst thing you’ll encounter here is some selfish bitch lying down stretched out across three seats even though the gate is insanely crowded and there’s a group of orphans with bone cancer standing next to her with no place to sit. The horror starts right back up, though, when boarding begins.
It’s amazing how few airlines board planes from rear to front. If you board a plane from rear to front, that would seem to prevent a logjam of people with rear seats waiting for idiots with front seats who seem to find it inexplicably difficult to stick their stupid bag in the overhead in under 5 seconds. Honestly, WHY THE FUCK DOES IT TAKE PEOPLE 120 SECONDS TO STICK A BAG IN AN EMPTY SPACE?!?!?!?!? On SBPH Airlines, flight attendants will be armed with pistols that they will use to kill anyone that takes more than 10 seconds to get in their damn seats once they’ve found their row.
Once in your seat, you will almost certainly find yourself sitting next to someone that fits one of the following criteria:
- Smells awful
- Looks awful
- Will not stop talking
The most effective way to silence this person is to start reciting passages from the Koran in an Arabic accent while rubbing your hands together and looking around nervously/angrily.
You’re then free to entertain yourself by looking out the window and watching airport attendants needlessly bodyslam people’s baggage onto the conveyor belts that relay the shit into the plane.
The rest of your trip will be enjoyable. I hear that the baggage claim can be a pain in the ass, but I wouldn’t know since I’m a heterosexual male and, unless I’m actually moving to another city, refuse to carry so much shit with me that I actually need to check a bag. If you have a bad experience at the baggage claim, you probably deserve it.