An Open Letter To Everyone At The Airport

Dear Fellow Travelers, Passengers Sharing My Aircraft, And That Asshole Trying To Stuff An Elephant In The Overhead Bin,

I hope this letter finds you well.

If it does not find you well, I am going to assume you had a shitty run through airport security, and as a result, decided to remove common sense, manners, and basic problem solving skills from your life for the next couple hours while you’re aboard the mile-high skybus, subsequently making everyone else’s life more difficult.

You know, because you are the first person to ever have a horrible time going through the process of boarding a plane.

I’ve come to accept the inevitable invasive body search ritual while my bag gets a conveyor belt CAT scan.   If I get by unscathed, I consider it good karma for the time I gave that homeless lady a coffee.

Everyone needs to accept that this is what the standard precautionary measures for security clearance are.

We’re never going to be able to bring our brita filtered water through the pearly gates of Laguardia, so after security, go to the water fountain and fill up your reusable bottle like the plebeian you are and move on.

Amen, license plate, amen.

Amen, license plate, amen.

If you line up before your boarding group is called and block the handicap lane, I hate you.  I hope the next time you’re at a restaurant they give your meal to a homeless person outside and still make you pay for it.

Travelers bringing luggage onto the plane, please assess the size and dimensions.  When you purchased this piece of luggage, if it didn’t come with a tag that read “CARRY ON” this means you probably cannot carry it on the plane without ruining someone else’s day.

If by chance, you make it through the ticket checkpoint unnoticed and roll your monstrosity of a bag onto the jet, putting it SIDEWAYS in the overhead bins will ultimately cause some other passenger, one who followed the rules and regulations of carry-on baggage, extreme anxiety when he or she is not able to fit their luggage above their seat.

Forgive me, I know your bag is important, but go fuck yourself and learn to consolidate like everyone else.

Sidenote: People who automatically place their luggage sideways in the overhead bins are most likely also the people who hog the armrests, and probably did not share toys as a child. 

Getting up immediately after the plane lands and removing your bag is fine, I guess. But if you’re pissed off about standing in line and wait for another twenty minutes to disembark you’re not being a logical human being.  Wipe the pout off your face, exercise a little patience, and wait until the line moves.

We’re all stuck here, honey.  And we all want to get off the plane.  But you’re in row 27 of 30, it’s going to take a few extra minutes.

Look, I get it, flying sucks, we all want to get off the plane and onto our destination.  Your needs and excitements are not unique, put on a smile, or at least stop frowning, and deal with it.  If you wanted to be in control of your spatial constraints, you should have driven.

Also, read SkyMall, it will totally lighten your mood.


Everyone Else At The Airport, Those On Your Flight, And The Person Who Had To Check His or Her Bag Last Minute Because You Took Up Too Much Space

Your turn!! What do you hate about traveling?  Did I leave anything out?


Is There Anything Worse Than A Bruised Banana?



I say this with the utmost sensitivity, but also not being sensitive at all because I’m at the airport, sans coffee, and all I had to look forward to after the debacle that is TSA security was the banana I liberated from my office yesterday afternoon.

To my dismay, after removing said freed work banana out of my trusty satchel, I found that it looks mildly discolored.

Normally, this is fine. I’ll take a brown spotted over a hard green any day of the week and twice on Sunday, but this particular banana was full of lies and deceit.

After the initial peel, which usually fills me with glee and anticipation of eating a potassium induced fruit that, after consumption, alleviates me of an annoying pulsating cramp in my left shoulder from sleeping weird, I noticed that the one or two spots on the outside revealed a more disturbing inside.

This banana was dead.

And there was no saving it.

It was like I opened a yellow protective peel expecting to see a freestanding fruit, yet I was greeted with a pile of brown mush that was only held together by a damaged outer shell.

The banana that held my hand through security, the banana that helped me save one whole dollar at Dunkin Donuts, the banana I worked tirelessly to liberate from the kitchen cages of corporate greed, my friends, that banana was inedible.

If you know anything about airports, you know that getting through security unscathed and with your entrails intact is a feat most people don’t overcome.

But I thought luck was on my side When the TSA woman at the initial check point let me know that I basically don’t look like a terrorist.

Round One: Meg – 1, Airport – 0.

I was selected to pass through security in the fast lane. No shoe removal, no invasive body scans, no suitcase search, just an innocent face and a plane to catch.

And the thought in the back of my mind that I would be enjoying the
deliciously ripe banana that accompanied me through airport security.

After pretty much getting upgraded to the first class security line, and fast tracking it through metal detectors like it ain’t no thang, I was shocked that after the good fortunes I was again rewarded with a wonderful window seat to watch planes departing whilst eating my potassium.

Round Two: Meg – 2, Airport – 0.

Only then did I realize that my morning would take a turn for the worst.

I could not enjoy my banana.

I couldn’t even look it in the eye and tell it why I was throwing it out.  It just needed to go.

I am hungry. I am tired. And I am still twitching in my left shoulder because I slept weird.

Fuck you, banana. Get a hard shell. Adapt, evolve, do something and stop ruining my life.

Airport/Banana – 1, Meg – 0.