Grrrr.....

So I am currently blogging from the floor of gate A10 in the Minneapolis St. Paul Airport, courtesy of Boingo online service, the wireless provider the airport sees fit to use. I am paying 8 bucks for the priviledge of reaching out to you people, which I will gladly pay to escape the ridiculousness that has become airline travel in this country. I know I've written about this before, but it behooves mentioning yet again. Everywhere around me, as far as the eye can see is mooing, grazing, glassy-eyed cattle. God, I hate these people.

Has anyone noticed that Americans approach flying like they are fleeing a third world country? Everyone seems to be wearing the baggiest, ugliest most shapeless crap they could dig out of their closets. They cart pillows, blankets, garbage sacks, babies, food, as though the khmer rouge was right behind them. Gate A10, my new permanent home, is no exception. These people are fugly. These people are Wichita. That's right kids, once again I am travelling into the belly of the beast, and once again my companions on this journey are the world's greatest collection of sideshow freaks. There's the 800 pound woman, the man with backwards legs, the World's Most Boring Human Being, and all manner of plain people of the Great Plains. What is it about a certain breed of woman- they hit 35 and it's all down hill from there: stringy disgusting hair, girth roughly the size of Texas, flowered sweat suit, too much perfume. Do they just give up? Kids, as an example of what I am talking about, at this very moment in my line of sight is a gentleman of roughly Methuselan age who is wearing a neon lime green polyester polo shirt, stain on the omnipresent beer gut, natch. Of course there are the requisite slacks, slung low under his manly belly. On the opposite side of that spectacle is a woman, a girl, really, who fancies herself Paris Hilton, without the trust fund. She is wearing a olive drab sweat/ lounge suit, also slung low on her decidely more svelte midsection. She is chewing gum like a cow chews cud, lazily, open-mouthed and loudly. I despise every little thing about her.

Thankfully, she does not have a dog. Seriously, what's with all the damn dogs? I have counted 5 dogs in little bag-like carriers in the past hour. Why in God's name do you need to bring your bishon frise on a cross country flight? The poor little bastard gets to ride around in his own shit covered pope mobile just so that you can have the pleasure of toting a living thing around like it was this season's hottest handbag? Screw you. At least I let the animal die before wearing it. You want to humiliate something for your own enjoyment, then have children like God intended.

What is it about travelling by plane that makes me so vitriolic? I'm catty as hell on my best days, but flying makes my sartorial judgement rival that of Anna Wintour. And it's not just clothes that get me, it's the existence of other human beings in general. Their mannerisms, smells, expressions, voices, breath... it all just irritates the crap out of me. I find fault with the smallest thing, I find superiority in the miniscule and ridiculous. Why? I'm opened to suggested reasons.