Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again - The Sequel

Faithful followers of Marky Mae's foibles will remember fondly the trauma and horror Marky Mae went through last year when attempting to get from New York to Florida. It was akin to the tortures of the damned, an experience from which Marky Mae barely escaped with whatever sanity was left.

Sadly, due to economic concerns, Marky Mae was forced to fly Delta again this year. I can tell you one thing - I will never, EVER fly Delta again.

Picture it - I'm dreading getting to the airport due to recent snow storms that have backed travel up, but am told "things are fine," not only by all people who had been listening to weather reports, but also by Delta officials themselves. Heartened, I drop Nizzles off and prepare for my journey. I arrive at the airport, and aside from seeing a bunch of stupid cunts waddling around in full-length fur coats, things seem to be going swimmingly.

We board at the appropriate time - 6: 30 for a 7 pm flight. Wow, this may actually work out after all!, I thought to myself prematurely - because, apparently, Delta airlines is bent on never, EVER getting anyone to their destination in a timely or relaxing manner.

So we're sitting on the plane. It's been quite some time, and people are starting to act like jerks, as people are prone to do when placed in situations in which things don't go exactly the way they want them to. "What the hell's going on?" some brusk turd starts shrieking at one of the flight attendants. "I'm sorry sir, it's out of my hands," she responds. And really, how could it not be? Does this fuckmouth think that screaming at this already harried stewardess is going to make things any better?

Then it happens. The PA comes on and the obviously-gay "head attendant" lisps into the mic, "Excuse me, but we just have an update - yes, we're all here and ready to go, but there's no captain yet. He's on his way from Atlanta and we'll be off as soon as he lands."

Now, this raises a question - why would these ASSHOLES choose to cram us all onto a stuffy, horribly cramped plane if they KNEW that the captain wasn't there and they had no idea when we'd be taking off? We could very happily have waited in the terminal with access to food, bathrooms, phones, et cetera, but there we were trapped on that plane with increasing agitation and angst, unable to eat, drink, move.

It's 10:30 - yes, FOUR hours after we've been boarded, and the captain finally arrives. But wait! Now there's something wrong with the fucking lock on the door, and THAT has to be checked! Oh, and as soon as that's taken care of, we have to wait in line to be de-iced. 

An hour later, we're being de-iced, and that process involves spraying some hideous, viscous and I'm sure highly toxic chemical on the exterior of the plane. It takes about five minutes, and then we're on our way - but something strange is happening, because we've just turned back around and are heading back for the de-icing zone.

"Sorry, folks," the tardy captain states. "We're going to have to de-ice again. It wasn't snowing before, and now that it's started snowing, we're going to need the 'strong stuff.'" Now, why the hell wouldn't they have just used the 'strong stuff' in the first place? WHY ARE THESE PEOPLE DETERMINED TO STEAL FOUR HOURS OF MY LIFE?

I forgot to mention something. Throughout this entire ordeal, the most obnoxiously shrill and horrifyingly whiney baby ever to claw its way out of a uterus has been pitching a non-stop shrieking tantrum, its parents doing little to silence it. They walk the drooling foghorn up and down the aisle, bouncing it and saying things like, "It's all right, honey," and "Shhh." Clearly, none of these approaches is working, and by 9 I am ready to take that baby and hurl it into a running propellor.

Finally, at 12:30, we take off, but I can't sleep because the shithead in front of me is farting nonstop - a noxious blend of what appears to be compost, artificial strawberry and beef jerky keeps wafting back and assaulting my nose. Throughout the ENTIRE FLIGHT.

By 3, when we land, I am trembling with rage. Gas and babies and idiotic airline tactics to take us prisoner have taken their toll and I can barely speak as I wobble off the plane. It's the next day and I am still recovering.

Damn, I hate Delta Airlines. That's two - yes, two in a row - Christmases they have attempted to derail. Let's hope their plot isn't a complete success this year.