This week was the week I was supposed to take my riding class. That didn’t happen because wednesday morning I ended up almost flying to Sacramento. I say almost, because the MOMENT I GOT TO O’HARE THEY CANCELLED THE FLIGHT. There were Mechanical Difficulties, they said.

FOr those of you not in the know, “Mechanical Difficulties” means “We have three planes full of passengers, and four flights. How can we save some money? Oh, that’s right, we just CANCEL THE FIRST FLIGHT OUT. So the 5:00 conference call I had been scheduled to be involved in was off. As was all productivity for the balance of the day. So at 3:15 PM (Instead of 10:15 AM) I get on a plane, wedged between a 370 lb woman who is going to visit her moonbat daughter in California, and the meanest man in the airport, so described because United Airlines had been cancelling or moving his flights for FOUR DAYS. This poor schlemiel had been through the wringer, and it wasn’t pretty to witness his rage. Waiting in the first class line while someone else walked up and paid cash for the last first class ticket when he had used up his frequent flyer miles to get a first class upgrade on the plane didn’t make him happy, but then when the new passenger bumped him out of his first class standby seat into economy, made the little veins pop out. On his eyes.

Then, when the freshly trained 48 year old male flight attendant spilled nearly a whole glass of water on him, It just made him mean.

Anyway, after spending four hours wedged in between Mr Personality and the Goodyear Blimp (and I’m by no means small myself) I get off the plane to discover they have NO RENTAL CARS even though we have a reservation, and I have to wait an hour for my colleague to arrive so we can use HIS avis membership card to maybe get us a car, and by the time we got to our hotel and had a quiznos and a beer, it was after 17 hours in airports or on airplanes. Ick.

THen, I spend a day working wiht a notebook computer that will only run if you point a fan directly at it. And it is painfully slow. And we have a conference call with Japan that leaves us JUST WHERE i’D BE IF i HAD STAYED HOME AND WORKED; IN OTHER WORDS, THERE WAS NO PRACTICAL REASON FOR ME TO GO THERE. I could have stayed home and taken my class. I could have my motorcycle license now.

But wait! Maybe I can get home in time to walk on for the next class! hey, there’s anm idea! Land at O’Hare at TWO FIFTEEN. Guess what time I made it to Crown Point, less than fifty miles away? Yep. FIVE THIRTY. I get on the wait list, but nine out of the ten people show up, and I’m 8 on the list, so I’m out of luck.

That, my friends, is merely a brief synopsis of the nastiness that was My Week. The actual reality was far, far worse. Trust me: None of it was pretty.

I did manage to read “The Closers” by Mike Conelley, on the way out, and “Godless” by Ann Coulter, on the way back. Oh, yeah, the way back. No, no, it’s better i don’t talk about it. Suffice to say that in a completely full aircraft of Californians off to spread their patchouli scented fucktardery across the land, reading an Ann Coulter book raises something more than just eyebrows. The woman next to me, who smelled like a fat man’s sweaty asscrack the WHOLE FLIGHT, managed to irritate me so much that I deliberately went to sleep.

For those who don’t know, me sleeping, in an airline seat next to you, is about the worst thing that can happen on acommercial aircraft; I have an 85 decibel snore, and i know how to use it. I often snore so loud I awaken people on the ground.

Still. I could have done some good with a bar of soap.

And one last word: United Airlines? fuck you. Fuck you with a whole chinese yellow elm, dipped in raw sewage and sprinkled with napalm. Fuck your family, fuck your friends. Fuck all the people who work there- Oh, wait, the folks in charge already DID that. Look, United, how about this? shut the fucking doors. Go gracefully, and stop fucking up all our lives.