Last week, the current vibe I'm riding took me to Minneapolis, Minnesota. It's frukin' cold. If you think the Superdome is shaggy...you should see the Metrodome.
Unfortunately it was one of those trips where I couldn't rationalize a road trip with those who bestow the cash. Truth is, I had to be in New England within 12 hours of leaving Minneapolis so it was physically impossible in lieu of a wormhole.
Did I mention I hate to fly....hate it....hate it....just....blahh....
Usually, those who bestow the cash book me on circuitous trips with ridiculous departure times. This was no exception.
I slogged into Louis Armstong International at 5:10 in the morn to a slew of folks getting their balls busted by people wearing shirts with some embroidered acronym which I couldn't quite figure out. Something....something....security. There's always gonna be an S in emerging government acroynms these days.
I was carrying a crap load of equipment on my shoulders....way too much...no matter what I do I will always be a mule....so I was ecstatic to plop my tired ass down at the gate waiting area. I hadn't even bothered to look at my seat position because I was confident that I was gonna be zone 29 or something close to the last guy on the plane. I actually prefer that because the less time I have to sit in an airplane the happier I am. Of course there's the flip side when you're in a controlled panic trying to get the fuck off.
I'm not scared of flying...it's claustrophobia. I just can't stand being cramped up like that.
Imagine my surprise when I pulled my boarding ticket out and saw: Zone 1, Seat 1A.
Kiss my ass!!! That's first class!!! I sat there for a second....in disbelief. I was afraid someone would figure out the mistake. Then I realized that they must have had empty seats and were just trying to fill them....I won the lottery.
The moment they started roll call....my punk ass jumped up and made a B-line straight for the gate....I wasn't gonna give them the opportunity to change their mind.
I sailed down the boarding bridge, shoved my shit in the COMPLETELY EMPTY overhead compartment, and parked my ass in 1A....1A....beeeootttchhh. You ever been in 1A? I have.
Running on 4 hours of sleep, I was going to crash which would have been easy cause I had enough room to milk a cow. Yeah...I've milked cows...fuck you. Fuck you brah....cause my titty pullin' ass was parked in 1A. I wasn't about to go through this unconscious. I've gone through a lot of things unconscious....like the majority of my life, for example....but this...this I had to pay attention to.
Are you bored with this story? You won't be after the next few paragraphs.
I was all pimped out in my La-Z-Boy watching the lowly peons pushing their way back to 46Z, or whatever wasteland was way the hell behind 1A...when I noticed a curious break in the line. Suddenly the guy's face sitting in 1C lit up like a pumpkin. He was watching the next passenger enter the plane. I didn't have a view of that, cause I was in 1A....1A isn't subjected to the burden of watching people bounce off the boarding bridge into the hell which would be their life for the next 2 hours.
Nonetheless, it piqued my curiosity...especially since 2A was fortuitously...no radiantly, empty. My imagination got the best of me....Angelina Jolie? No...she's over us. Nick Cage? I heard he's in town. Hell I would've settled for Chris Rose (who I did just run into in the Miami airport last month)...I just wanted someone more important than me to sit next to me so I could bug the shit out of them.
Imagine my surprise when Dollah Bill rounds the corner grinning like a shit-eating possum (that's country...i never understood it either but it's funny...and i think somehow apt). Sho' nuff'...he was 2A.
I'll admit I had a pucker moment...but I quickly stuck my head in a crossword and acted like I had no fucking idea who he was.
I'll pick this up later.
CORRECTION: It wasn't 2A that was empty...it was 1B...I messed that up...he sat down right next to me.