An open letter to an airport; you know who you are.
I can forgive the TSA’s attempt to rape me. I hope you enjoyed it, you damn perverts.
I can forgive the airline that canceled my flight in anticipation of weather rather than because of it. I can forgive canceling my flight a day before the weather that didn’t happen. I can forgive not contacting me when I could easily have made adjustments in advance. I can forgive causing me to leaving my comfortable home many hours in advance for the privilege of watching my life, like sands through an hourglass, pour out on the concourse’s shitty tiled floor. I can forgive seats ideally sized for 8 year old female gymnasts, half ounce packets of pretzels, and generally turning the magic of flight from a golden adventure into a Kafkaesque nightmare.
However, there is no forgiveness in my heart for the airport lounge. Charging stranded innocents $11 for the booze they desperately need to keep from committing mayhem upon a vast system of integrated failure is simply wrong. It’s wrong written in neon on the face of humanity. It’s shitty on a galactic scale. Eleven bucks for a single mediocre drink is a sin against nature, an abomination before God, and a violation of civilizing norms. The sooner divine retribution sweeps their poisonous fangs from the neck of society the better. I don’t hope they die in a fire. I fervently dream of it. When it happens I will dance on their grave and sing songs about it. I’ll pay good money for an obelisk and erect it at their corporate front door. I’ll carve “Fuck them” on it’s base and hire street urchins to urinate hourly on their fiscal bottom line while commissioning an opera to commemorate how truly repulsive I found my tab.
Trust me on this, nothing good comes from being assholes. It’s good to make a profit, it’s evil to bleed a prisoner. I don’t know what will be the agent of karmic correction but I’m hoping it’s ugly and spectacular; possibly involving venereal disease, brimstone, and radioactive tapeworms.
As always, thanks for listening.