I do not believe in the journey. I believe in the destination. So spending 7 hours in coach at the height of terrorist paranoia is pretty much my own personal hell. What could make it worse? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a washed up old hippy having a flash back and dropping trou to pee in the aisle.
I’m sorry, ladies and gentleman. We’ll be landing about a 1000 miles from where you need to go because the nut in Row 62 is having a bad reaction to some LSD she took in 1968. Oh, and that’s not anthrax or bomb making chemicals you smell right now. She just had some asparagus for lunch.
Had any member of my immediate family been on that flight, the shit would have hit the fan, I assure you. My father is still mad on the flying restrictions imposed after the Unabomber and his manifesto of bullshit fucked up his elaborate schemes to screw the frequent flier program of every major international and domestic airline.
And while this nut apparently alluded to the tragic events of September 11th and various Middle Eastern connections (she was, after all, returning from visiting her Pakistani pen pal), the thought of my tax dollars being used (not to mention the emotional stability of the other passengers) to scramble fighter jets and have this poor plane accompanied to a closer airport is ridiculous.
I’d have put it to a vote.
Excuse me, Captain OverReactor. I’ll need that PA system for a second. Um, folks. This is Beth. I’m in Row 46 and I can smell that bitch from here. Apparently, Mother Jones is having a bad trip and is freaking the understandably uptight flight crew out. They propose we reroute this bird and head to Boston, accompanied by the two F15’s you may notice on either side of the plane. Well, we could do that. OR, we could beat the shit out of this wackjob, tie her up, cover her ass with newspaper, tape her yapper shut and get back to our in-flight movie, Chicken Run. I don’t know about you people, but I’ve got dinner reservations at The Palm with Stephanopolous and come hell or high water, no voodoo priestess and her patchouli love beads are making me miss this…