I fly. A lot. And it sucks. A lot. Some things can be fixed, some things are just the result of “Twit Magnetism”. I now relate the story of why I will never enter another Southwest Airbus- even if my nuts are stapled to a cannon ball and shot into the seat.
It had been a long trip, and as I board the gate in Denver I hear music. Not over the PA, but live music. Okay, that’s different, and it wasn’t too bad. There were two guitarists and a singer, playing softly as we boarded the plane. That was okay, weird, but okay. Now when I fly I like to be left the hell alone- so I usually bring something to read, work on, etc. I find the constant prattle of the flight crew annoying- yes I can latch my own seat belt fuck you very much- if I can’t I’ll improve the gene pool by moving to first class at 200 miles an hour if we crash. Anyway I’ve heard the flight announcements several hundred times. Anyway first it was the head stewardess (yes I know they like flight attendant- I like Serving Wenches, we’ll compromise on stewardess). Then the copilot, and finally the captain. They literally told us how long the flight was (an hour) FOUR times. If you’d shut up and fly the plane, we’d have been there by now…
Anyway, the musicians boarded the plane. Oh great, they’re flying with us. I had no idea the special kind of hell SWA had planned. We take off- blissful silence (other than the obligatory screaming infant)- and then, BONG…and now our in flight entertainment. Just once I want them big titted girls to hand out beer and cigars- but no, they’re going to serenade us. What?
They played over the PA system for the entire hour. When they were done there was weak applause from the back of the cabin- no doubt at the mercy of them finally stopping. Captive audience is an understatement. So screw you Southwest, I’m giving my $87, and $200 on top of it to Delta…
