It's official. I'm in hell. We're bumped again. It's 3:06 and they're saying we'll be leaving at 5:00 at the earliest. They'll update us again at 4:00 unless there's a change. The plane is outside ... gassed up and ready to go. The FAA won't let them take off ... or so they say.
I think this is a big Subway conspiracy. They've cornered the market ... and schlubs like me have no choice other than to eat their nasty subs. As a stop-gap measure, I bought a bag of Cheetos out of the vending machine ... not because of my love of Cheetos or my disdain for Subway ... but because I don't want to go through security again.
Don't get me wrong ... this is Springfield and security isn't horrible. But it's such a pain in the ass. You have to pull everything out of your pockets and put it in this little dog food bowl ... including watches, keys, etc. You have to take your laptop out of it's bag and put it in a tray. You have to take another tray and put your shoes and purse inside it.
At this point, all these things go on a conveyer belt to be whisked through a screening machine. Apparently my inhaler was a big security risk ... because it set off some type of alarm. It was only afterwards that I realized that the inhaler is technically an aerosol can.
Since my death was the only thing standing between the TAS agent and national security, he made the executive decision to let it go through. I offered to "spray" it for him to prove it was medication ... but he took my word for it.
I must go people watch now ... because I think I saw a Charlie go by ... and this one guy is showing distinct signs of being a Jack.
You say you don't know
I say... take me out
I say you don't show
Don't move time is slow
I say... take me out
Franz Ferdinand - Take Me Out
No comments:
Post a Comment