I did some flying last week. I kind of felt like a flight attendant, because I only went to where I was going for a day to make a couple hundred dollars. Going, I flew Delta Airlines, which had its share of delays, but who emailed me on Saturday night to apologize. Coming back, I flew Frontier Airlines, which is like Spirit Airlines if they ever decided to get their shit together, and it was still problematic. It's one of these pay for your flight, pay for your seat, pay for your carry-on type airlines, which is essentially "mile high" way robbery.
Was it nonstop to New York? Sure: each flight was nonstop from the departure to the layover to New York. I don't mind layovers; they're a good excuse to eat dinner, no matter what time of day it is. Have dinner anyway! But in this case, it was actually dinner time (complete coincidence), so I sat down sight unseen for a meal, which is to say that the server never saw me seated at the restaurant because they were so busy. I moved inside, off of the moving walkway, and got a seat. Better? Not really. But I at least I ate dinner, the correct layover meal, and boarded the second flight.
I've never been on a plane close to a person who's gotten sick before, but two rows up and across the aisle, a woman ralphed so hard that I named her the Karate Kid. This caused the row she was in, and the row behind her, to disperse, like cockroaches in the daytime, or snakes on plane, like in the movie Pulp Fiction. That row behind her moved behind me, taking up residency and kicking my seat until I finally had enough and got up, grabbed my things, and left the plane cause we arrived at the gate. The flight attendants were preoccupied with the innards of Ralph mucho, so my free water was nowhere in sight.
What're you gonna do, amiright? Nothing. Face the bumpy, rocky, final Frontier flight on a late Friday night into New York City. Was it worth it? Yeah, I had fun. Not on the flights, but I had fun. That ground stuff was cool. The air stuff not so much. Fly 'til you puke, that's my motto.