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some thoughts on the weekend
fuck vegas and 110 degrees and screaming girls raising a ruckus because it seems like they should. a highly scheduled ruckus, a stereotypically punk rock time. a ruckus that doesn't seem fun.
fuck starbucks and the ten minutes it takes to get a cup of coffee in the airport lobby. fuck McCarren airport's homeland security, which has done nothing to make me feel more secure and everything to do with missing our flight, as we stood for nearly an hour waiting to go through an x-ray machine and waiting to get treated air blown in our faces on the slim chance we're covered in explosive chemicals.
and fuck delta and their attitude and closing plane doors minutes early and insisting there's nothing they can do for us, the next flight isn't until midnight, 11 hours from now, oh well too bad for you. now go sleep in the corner by the gate and wander around past the slots and moving walkways and Cinnabon over and over until the sparse floorplan is imprinted in your mind, to be featured in nightmares for weeks to come. wander until it is finally time to eat (a tacky, awful meal which will give one of your travelling companions food poisoning for the entire five-hour flight back home) and then time to board the (delayed) flight and time to desperately try to twist into a sleeping position on the uncomfortable airline seats because you really haven't slept in any real way in 12 hours and you've got a full day of work ahead of you when you touch down at 8:30 a.m. and head straight to the office.
but most of all, fuck vegas.
