I swiped the title for this entry from a friend's blog. I did it because this is exactly what I was thinking when I walked up to my gate at the Atlanta airport, littered with USAF jack offs.
You see, I was returning from a work trip and making a connection in Atlanta. A connection that would, finally, take me home. So, I walk up to the gate only to find that my flight has been delayed by 30 minutes. I figured, "No big deal. I can get lunch." Except that an hour later I was still waiting for my damn flight.
In the meantime, I was surrounded by "high and tights" as far as my tired little eyes could see. Their leader, the tallest and best looking one, was quite possibly the worst representation of the US Air Force I have ever met. He was a loud braggart that gave himself whiplash anytime a pretty lady with big boobs walked by . . . a true gentleman that one.
Finally, at 4 pm, an announcement is made that my flight has been cancelled due to maintenance. Whatever, I'd rather be grounded than fly on a plane held together by duct tape and bubble gum.
The thing is, no one is doing anything, so I pick up my bag and weave through the outstretched legs of about 50 Air Force folks and make my way to another gate and ask to fly standby on another Delta flight heading to Montgomery. The agent was helpful and found me a flight scheduled to leave at 4:35, but cautioned me that there was no guarantee that I would get on, although it looked good since there was only one other person on the standby list.
That 4:30 pm flight was delayed and not scheduled to take off until 5:30 pm. In the meantime, the knuckle draggers started showing up and it wasn't long before I was again surrounded my a bunch of folks who think "what happens on TDY, stays on TDY" is perfectly acceptable. Finally, the plane starts boarding at 5:45 pm and it starts dawning on me that there's no fucking way I'm going home on that place because active military gets priority.
That's right, these lazy asses that are sleepwalking there way through a 25 year career because they have no marketable skills (One of them had a degree in Logistics Management, in other words, dude totally rocks at finding the cheapest toilet paper and paper towels for the bathrooms. Good luck finding a job that pays what you've gotten used to with the USAF.) on the outside are going to board before I will.
These fucks that are flying on a discounted military rate will board way before my full-price ticket. These brave desk jockeys prepared to stab someone in the eye with their Number 2's will reach their destination before I will.
I hear the flight crew make the call that they are done boarding and there are three other sorry souls sitting around me realizing that their bags will arrive before they will. And, that's when it happened, I used the only thing I had left to find a flight home.
I started crying.
I didn't intend to use it to my advantage. I was discreetly tucked away in a corner quietly weeping. Once the gate agent was free I stumbled up and asked for a travel voucher and a rental car. The gentleman said to me, "Vee cannot give you zat. Vee can try to put you on standby for the 10 o'clock flight."
Me, "NO, you don't understand. I could have driven home by that time. I'm not going to sit here and wait to see if maybe you can send me home on another flight. That's what I did here and here I am and there they go. You can't guarantee me that I will be able to get on that flight."
Him, "Miss, vee cannot guarantee anyzing."
Me, now sobbing, "So, you see, I would rather not sit around and take my chances when I KNOW that I can drive home much sooner."
Him, "Let me zee vat I can do," and he starts typing furiously, "Okay, eef you leave now for gate C32 you may fly standby on zee 6:30." (It's 6:15 when we're having this conversation.)
Me, still sobbing, "But, you can't guaranteed that I will get on board."
Him, "You are not leestening to me. GO NOW! EET EEZ BOARDING! EEF YOU RUN YOU CAN CATCH EET! I have given you priority."
Ya'll, I don't do much running. I might do a cheek-clenched power walk on the way to the bathroom occasionally, but I do not run.
Ya'll I was like fuckin' Flo Jo down that concourse. IN FLIP FLOPS, PEOPLE!
And, Atlanta is not a small airport, there are trains that have to take you to another concourse and I hopped on that train just before the doors closed. Then, I ran up the escalator and down another concourse to hear the gate agent announce, "Final boarding call for standby passenger (my last name)."
Breathless and with my shins beginning to cramp I slapped my boarding pass on the counter and wheezed, "Zatsme."
Minutes later I was buckling up and headed home.
The flight was short and uneventful, and when I landed I knew my bags weren't going to be on my flight. I had watched them load my bag onto the flight with the military idiots so I didn't even wait for them at baggage claim.
After grinning like an idiot at S and jumping into his arms for kisses and hugs I told him that my bags probably weren't on my flight.
We went straight to the desk and asked if my bag had arrived on the earlier flight. The agent looked at me over her glasses and asked, "What earlier flight?"
Me, "There was a flight that left Atlanta 20 minutes before I did."
She starts typing and says, "Oh, that one pulled away from the gate, but got called back due to mechanical problems. Are you sure you're bag wasn't on your flight."
Hee, fuckers totally got grounded and then their flight was cancelled.
Me, grinning from ear to ear, "Oh no, I'm sure it was on that other flight, but I'll stick around and wait to see if it arrived anyway."
I didn't get my bag that night and I didn't care. I was finally in my own bed with S's arms wrapped around me.
I had gotten to fly into the wild blue yonder, afterall.
So, take your priority and SUCK IT, BITCHES!
