Dear Obnoxious Traveler on Southwest Airlines Flight 34 from Houston to Dallas on Friday, January 7:
The flight was late.
It was late for all of us. Not just you. No one woke up on Friday morning and said, “You know what would be fun? Let’s make ONE passenger suffer by making an entire flight late!” You are not that important. (Note: “self-important” is not the same thing as “important.” You might want to study up on the differences.)
Here are some tips:
- Glaring at the flight attendants prior to take-off won’t make us leave any sooner.
- Heavy sighs? Head shaking? They don’t help either. Neither does looking at your giant gold watch every three minutes.
- Also, accusing the flight attendants of lying about the reasons for the delay is kind of silly. I am almost positive that they don’t have ANYTHING to do with it. They are just trying to do their jobs, even when it includes having to deal with jackasses like yourself.
Also, when you are flinging your carryon into the overhead bin with so much force that it knocks my phone out of my hand and flings it (the phone, I mean, not my hand) a row or two down the plane, I am PRETTY SURE you noticed and need didn’t me to point it out to you. But, still, I realize that you were terrible inconvenienced by the flight delay and stopping to either apologize to me or help me retrieve my phone would have delayed things by up to a millionth of a second and you just didn’t have time.
Additionally, if you HATE Southwest Airlines as much as you said (over and over and over), I would suggest there are alternative ways to travel between Houston and Dallas. There are other airlines, for example. And I think there might be a highway that connects the two cities, which not only opens up the possibility of driving but of taking the bus. Or, you could hop a freight train. You could hitchhike. Or (and I could not be more serious when I say this) you could have stayed home and let us travel without your obnoxious comments for the whole flight.
To be fair, I did quite enjoy the part when your drink (“CC. Rocks. Two.” was how you ordered it.) flew off your knee and you caught it (drink, not knee) in midair but ended up with a case of whiskey hand. I guess you think the flight attendants made the pilot steer into some turbulance. Whatever: it was good entertainment for a second.
And, stomping your feet to make the people ahead of you in the jetway walk faster doesn’t speed them up, does it?
One of the slow people in the jetway