Rape Schmape

So my job has me back on a plane to Pittsburgh again. It seem like I was just here… Sorry about the minor time blip, by the way, life got the best of me for a week or two. But anywho, I once again found myself in the very back f’ing row on the toy plane, basically touching the toilet. Don’t let me forget to mention the AC was broke as well, but only in the back half of the plane, (luckily enough for those bastards in the front half of the plane.) So I guess it was kinda nice that the overbearing scent of sweat and body odor slightly overtook the shit scent that hit me in the face every time someone stepped out of the toilet that was inches from me. Gotta love that. As usual, I had my music on as high as possible until the flight attendant very rudely told me it was must be turned off. Fine, whatever, I know the procedure. I clicked off and showed her the ipod screen showing black. This wasn’t enough for Jenny Powertrip.
“I need you to remove the ear phones from your ears.”
“Um, no, it’s fine, the ipod is off.” I politely replied.
“They need to be completely out.”
“Why?”
“I need to know that you will be able to hear me if I make an important announcement before take off.”
At this point I very maturely rolled my eyes at the wench and removed them. But really, what announcement could be so important that she would announce it quietly enough that I wouldn’t be able to hear due to a pair a dime sized foam ear phones? And let’s not forget I had just had an ongoing conversation with her with the ear phones in the entire time. And for that matter, if we haven’t even taken off who the hell cares, the announcement wouldn’t matter all the much anyway. So now I wonder why are we allowed to listen to music throughout the flight when an “emergency announcement” might seem a little more emergency-ish? Like yah, I would want to make sure I heard “we are crashing” or “the plane has been hijacked” or something along those lines mid flight. But I think the people around me would probably politely tap my shoulder if this were ever the case.
So now I’m currently sitting in an airport restaurant in Detroit, great city by the way, only 2nd to Shittsburgh, that’s called “Online Café.” But today it’s only called Café because there internet is down. So, I’m “blogging” on Microsoft word and plan to transfer later. Yes, I’m that bored. But sitting in this restaurant for over an hour now (by the way, thanks company travel agents for the 3 hour layover) I really can’t quite figure out what might motivate someone to work at an airport. And the more I think about it I don’t actually know someone who does work at an airport. I mean I’ve seen pilots in hotels and stuff, but what about the random book store workers, or the old looking bartender ladies? Seriously, airports are so huge so you would think us outsiders might know more people who work at them, don’t you think? Like oh you know Sally’s husband, Joe, he just got a great job at the Gadgets to Go store at the airport. I just never hear stories like that. Kinda makes me think airport workers live somewhere separate from the rest of us.
So this is what I concluded. Jobs in which travel is required are over rated. Being in a random city with strangers isn’t that sweet. Drinking isn’t that great at night either when you’ve been doing work shit from 7:30 a.m.- 7 p.m. and in the back of your mind you know it’s all about to start all over again in just a few hours. Bottom line is traveling should equal vacation, not work. I’ve found myself numerous times practically hissing at the people in the airport next to me who are decked out in their Tommy Bahama palm tree shirts and long, flowy islandy dresses. They make me sick with envy.
Well, time to try to do the airport nap in the ever so comfortable airport chairs. I can’t even look sleepy tomorrow morning when we start at 7:45 a.m. because it has already been brought to my attention by my boss that I’ve been acting a bit “diva like.” What with my crazy requests like asking to change my flight today so I wouldn’t have to arrive into the ghetto ass airport that is Pittsburgh at 12:00 a.m. all alone. Rape Schmape. Mugged fugged. It’s all good.