For fuck sake. I'm meant to be halfway back home now but there's a category 60 tornado storm in Dallas and our pilot, who is a total pussy might I add, dropped us in Houston instead for an impromptu airport themed slumber party. I'm angry. What's worse is, the air hostesses keep taunting us with prospective arrival and departure times like it's some kind of sick joke to play on the weary and destitute in transit.
"Attention passengers, after a brief stopover in Houston, we're happy to announce that we'll be back on our way within the hour LOL jk you're sleeping on a stained airport floor tonight and possibly tomorrow night, assholes".
No joke, that's what they said and that's what I'm doing tonight. In fact, I'm doing it right now as you read this, even if you read it after I get home because I'm going to be here forever. To give you an idea of what I'm going through, here's a loose guide on how airport themed slumber parties differ from normal slumber parties:
Normal slumber parties have:
- Boundless harvests of popped corn and powerful rushing rivers of creamed soda.
- Playful wrestling (can turn serious depending on soft drink intake and sociological aptitude of said friends)
- 2 New Releases, 1 Recent Release and 31 weekly releases.
- Someone's mum.
Airport slumber parties have:
- Water and a vending machine that won't take my bills.
- Actual bare-knuckle street fights.
- A 12cm 'Jony' television protruding from the furthest corner of the airport, yet whose speakers crack far and wide to every other corner of the airport. No remote, news channel.
- Someone's mum, her grandmother and a woman so dilapidated and unaware of her surroundings that one would have to assume she is the great grandmother. They're all there, the entire displeased hierarchy.
It's going to be the worst slumber party ever I can already tell.
In fact, it already has been. Everyone is so pissed off. I might be pissed off, but these people are trying to hold something. Especially the more gastronomically inclined passengers. I've been observing them.. They get so angry sometimes that they start sweating and keel over on the pleather death chairs as they creak and strain to support their generous servings. Then they start breathing really heavily and you know they're saying something but they just can't quite get it out, trading our regional dialect for an inconsistent series of grunts, heaves and muffled curse words as they wipe their multiple brows. The previously smug air hostesses are reduced to quivering servants in their presence, it almost makes you wish you were obese. I've no chance of that though, as compensation for our indefinite stopover I was supplied with the following:
1 x Muesli Bar
1 x Bottle of water
1 x Infinite servings of fuck all else.
Everyone else just walks around kicking bags and threatening hotel staff and taxi drivers because they have 'meetings' and 'classes' and 'appointments', completely driven by the false impression that these engagements are the most important things in the world and that the hotel staff and taxi drivers they're abusing will benefit from from helping them out and definitely won't just end up dealing with some stressed out neckbeard at 3 in the morning. Sometimes people that work in an office think that their time is more important than those of us that don't work in an office because they get paid to be at certain places at certain times. The fact of the matter is though, they just work in an office. No one at this airport is getting paid at the moment Mr. iPad-2-for-my-spreadsheets-and-emails, drop your predominantly empty, unjustifiably expensive briefcase before nobody gets hurt.
Then there's the powerpoint junkies. Those guys that are off the plane even before the pilot and by the time you've awkwardly fumbled your way off the bridge, they're already slumped against a wall completely jacked on two fully occupied powerboards, three smartphones, three tablets, a fucking portable television and two more powerboards connected to the rest of Steve Jobs' legacy. If you walk past them and so much as glance at anything that resembles a slot in the wall they'll hiss, spit and pretend to be asleep til the cows come home and then they're the first ones asleep on the next flight. When they wake up halfway through the flight they'll use their fully juiced electrical empire to play Angry Birds or watch movies readily available on the in-flight entertainment menu. These people are known as 'cunts'. I got into a small verbal tiff with an older female powerpoint junkie (see:cunt) and, much like their larger and less technologically reliant counterparts (the fatties), they are not of reasonable origin and completely deny fact and logic when presented with it first hand. This lady was on her phone and laptop, sucking every last drop of their batteries by simultaneously complaining to someone who was in no position to help her out and Googling other people she could call and complain to once her current opponent admitted defeat. I innocently plugged my sleeping laptop in and sat across from her, catching a death stare that could've charged a million iPads the second I sat down. I listened in on her conversation for a bit and wondered how she was going to come at me for taking a free powerpoint at a public airport:
Junkie: "I was gonna use that one"
Me: *confused stare*
Junkie: "I was gonna use that one but my husband....."
Me: "Oh ok, I saw that it was free and assumed it was.......free. I'll be ten minutes and then you can have them both"
Junkie:*storms over to husband*
Junkie: *imposes will on husband*
Junkie: *husband looks in my direction*
It became clear to me that this unhappily married couple had never had sex before. She may have raped him a couple of times, but there was no sane explanation for their union. They hated each-other and now they hated me as well. Needless to say I packed my shit up and left shortly after through fear of an awkward stand-off with the husband, who would've only approached me because his dragon-wife had told him to and who would've actually had no convincing evidence that he was the rightful owner of the powerpoint, very much due to the fact that I was the rightful owner at that point in time. I'm a nice guy, junkies are people too.
And who could forget the distraught crybabies? These are generally actual babies or teenage females who are missing a friend's birthday or a tv show or something, loudly announcing their disdain through an emotional cocktail of tears, reckless hand gestures, swearing and looking around to see if anybody is watching. Teenage girls aren't built for situations like this, they're kind of like the office neckbeards in the way that they view themselves as the only victims inconvenienced by the proceedings or lack thereof. If you don't like stopovers then don't fly, teenage girl who is crying.
Teenage girls should be frozen and then thawed when they're ready to mate, I'm yet to see one contribute to anything that wasn't ozone-layer related or the annual income of terrible actors. In fact, I'm willing to bet that it's teenage girls that caused the tornado in Dallas that's preventing me from not being at this airport right now. Those prissy teenage girls with their fancy hairsprays and their hopscotch chalk and all that.