I hate Christmas Pt. II

When I stopped yesterday I was in the middle of recounting the tale of my most recent holiday travel situation, which can only be described as nightmarish. In addition the last post also served as a my commentary on the egregious lack of parenting skills that is displayed by today's young parents. And now the story continues...

As you can probably already tell, I harbor serious resentment for the airport and everything that goes along with it, so going into my flight home on Sunday I was only expecting the worst. This feeling only got stronger when I remembered that Sunday was going to be a complete and utter clusterfuck due in large part to Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, otherwise known as Christmas Day's crotch bomber. This genius saw the line that the shoe bomber drew in 2001 and promptly crossed it. Apparently his father had gone to the US Embassy in Nigeria and warned them that his son had a few screws loose. Really? I think everyone figured that one out when he tried to blow up his own penis. Words of wisdom: if you ever encounter a man trying light his wiener on fire, turn and run because something is drastically wrong. What really had me taken aback by this guy's plan was the fact that he was on a plane bound for Detroit. What? The Dirty D? A half-assed terrorist plot to say the least. Hey numbnuts, if you wanted to kill Americans maybe you should try and do it on a flight to a place where people might actually be going to visit instead of a city where the biggest exports are tears and shattered dreams? Don't the people of Detroit have enough to worry about? C'mon Umar, have some compassion, after all it is the giving season.

Since I clearly don't have anything else to worry about when I'm trying to get on a plane, now without a shred of doubt I know there will be a bunch of added security. Riddle me this Department of Homeland Security, for what reason do red flags go up when they see a early 20's white kid in khakis and a polo. The model for today's Islamic extremist that I surely appear to be inevitably leads the TSA agents/Jr. Mensa members to send me through a secondary security checkpoint. Something about my haircut, wardrobe, or overall demeanor must really make my fellow travelers feel uncomfortable. My bad, I guess I should have seen this coming, after all the overarching theme of the Gap's fall line was Baghdad Sheik.

After being frisked by the female TSA agent who, as described in yesterday's post was large and most definitely in charge, everything seemed like smooth sailing. No delays, no cancellations, and the sun shining brightly through the windows of Douglass International Airport. I get on the plane and I am greeted by a young flight attendant who looks like a stripper; not too shabby, things are really looking up for me today. Let's just call this the calm before the storm...

I've been sitting in my seat for a few minutes and a guy comes and tries to explain to the girl next to me that she is sitting in his seat. However she apparently had been informed by a non-stripper looking flight attendant that she could stay in her seat so she could "all the kids could sit near each other". This is where this day begins to fall apart at the seams. I turn around to see what the girl exactly meant by "the kids" that all wanted to sit together, and before my shoulders can turn completely my heart falls to my stomach, through my intestines, and straight out my ass. Two toddlers are sitting behind me and they are just itching to start some trouble. I make eye contact with the little boy and the look on his face only says one thing "I came here to do two things, suck my pacifier and to fuck shit up, and I already threw my pacifier across the aisle". His sister was no slouch either, they clearly were tag team veterans and they came to unleash the fury on United Airlines flight 7248. 90 minutes, no interruptions, no commercial breaks, performance of a lifetime. It starts with an apparent soccer match in the seat behind me, and if my spine has an opinion on the matter he thinks the little shit behind me is winning this one in a rout. The little boy is sitting with his dad and across the aisle the girl sits with their mother, and when the dad only politely suggests to his son that maybe the nice man in front of him doesn't want to get violently kicked in the back all day, he gives me the "oh you're fucked now bro " look and pulls out the oldest trick in the book. He starts screaming that he wants his Mommy, which his sister picks up on little Jakey's slick move as her cue to scream even louder because apparently now she wants to sit with Daddy. I wasn't to be fooled by their young age, like I said before these kids knew what they were doing, and in fact they made the kid From yesterday's post look like a saint. As the girl is screaming for Daddy and the boy is yelling for his Mommy the parents just look at each other for a moment and promptly go right back to what they were doing. Now with 100+ people on this plane I don't think this is the correct time to ignore your duties as a parent and just let your children go completely insane with no repercussions whatsoever. Here's a solution that wouldn't exactly take Gil Grissom and the rest of the CSI crew to figure out; TRADE YOUR FUCKING KIDS. If he wants to go to mommy and his sister wants to sit by daddy, here's a novel idea, just let them and maybe they'll stop unleashing hell. Is that too much to ask? Apparently so because this went on and on and on while Mommy and Daddy sat there as if it wasn't their problem. Have you lost your God damn minds? Then it hits me; these kids are so incredibly bad that they have completely broken their parents mentally. I get it, your kids are clearly spawned from Satan, but it doesn't give you the right to sit back and act powerless while these kids go completely apeshit. 3 year olds: 1, Joe: 0. Game over. Result: pure Anarchy. Well played little kids, well played.

And so this is where I will choose to end my long-standing transgressions with yearly holiday air travel buttfuck and the lack of parenting these days. I hope you liked it, and if you choose not to agree with me then I'm just going to have to tell you that you're wrong.

I'm not sure how I should end this one, so I'll leave you the immortal words of Nate Dogg. Hey hey hey hey, smoke weed every day.