Fuck Me In The Ass Once, Shame On You. Fuck Me In The Ass Twice, Shame On Me*

The conclusion of our Costa Rica vacation (I guess we’re starting the recap from the end now) involved a return flight on American Airlines that was delayed for four hours due to mechanical problems before finally being cancelled leaving us stranded in San Jose, the city that progress forgot. (Not before we checked our bags, unchecked our bags to run through the airport for a different plane that was made up of working mechanical parts, nearly lost our bags, and ended up in a nearby hotel for the night eating a comped buffet dinner that tasted like something you might find left in the oven at the home of an eight-day old murder victim – who couldn’t cook.)

Point being, that right this very second I am sitting on another American Airlines flight. This time I’m headed to New York for a friend’s bachelor party. The flight was supposed to leave at 4:25, and finally, once everyone was boarded at 6:30, we rolled around the tarmac for a bit before the captain came on the loudspeaker to tell us that due to weather conditions – in New York, not here – we couldn’t take off for another hour. But that we had to board because “they needed the gate.”

Um, unless they are currently using that gate to feed homeless children or stage a scene for the filming of “The Princess Bride 2,” I’m going to go out on a limb and say there was no good reason to make me sit here next to a woman who yells things like, “Look at all the people on their phones! It’s like a commerrrrcial!”**

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* Yes, I wrote that title with a woman glancing over my shoulder at my computer. And yes, she is now letting me have the entire arm rest all to myself.

** UPDATE: She just randomly shouted out, “So this is how the other half lives!” What other half? The plane people? Who live on commercial jets? Shoot me now.