Yippee! I'm finally back home, and on blogger again. Sorry I was gone so long, but where I've been this summer had no internet connections.
June left me all over the map, flying to Minneapolis then the Quad Cities to see my parents then back home to Rapid again then off to Manitou Springs, Cortez, Mesa Verde then home again.
So that leads me to blog about the nightmares of flying, layovers, missed flights and the rank people you get stuck sitting next to.
Delta's flight leaving Rapid was one hour late, of course making me miss my connecting flight to Minneapolis. The half wit at the desk here in Rapid, unbeknownst to me, re-booked me onto a flight that wasn't supposed to leave for another 4 hours (as if I'd want to hang out at the Rapid City airport for a couple hours). Once I figured out that he screwed up my flight, I angerily marched back up to the desk asking to talk with a different flight representative who got me on the next flight one hour later, BUT with an 8 hour layover in Minneapolis.
What do you do waiting at the Minneapolis airport for 8 hours? Well, catch the H1-N1Flu of course, as I became gravely ill 48 hours later.
But for now, I must rant on my final beef with flying. What is it about stinky people on small flights? Is it too much to ask for that someone take a bath before a flight, take a breath mint or not eat jumbo extra bean burritoes before sitting next to me?
Two of the Rankest Types of People to Sit next to you on a Flight:
1. The "Shower? Who needs to shower, not me!" type:
This cat next to me hadn't washed his hair in maybe a month or two. Even though he sat across the aisle from me, I could smell it, an odd odor similar to rusty tin cans, of bins of old grease sitting outside of fast food chains. I could actually see the cabin lights sparkling off the grease built up in his hair.
2. The, "I had beans for lunch and forgot my Bean-o" AKA, "The Farter."
On my second flight, I was pleased to see I would sit with a man my age who appeared to be well shaved and clean smelling. That is, until he farted. The first time was an alarming experience since he held it in until our stewardess was there asking us if we'd like a soda, my eyes watering with a Kleenex over my nose. "The farter" usually does this, waiting until multiple smellers are within his vicinity so that everyone else will think YOU farted, not him. I took solace in imagining him set on fire. The second time he farted was after we'd landed. He'd hopped up to grab his overhead bag. Then after he got it, I moved one seat over, still seated, about 4" from his butt, when he farted again. I actually wondered if he had pooped his pants.
Moral of the story?
I see they have travel sized bottles of Febreeze at the grocery store. That will certainly take care of the problem.
Feel like spraying me with fart-gas? Why go ahead. I'll be armed (squirt-squirt). Beware!
