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I'm too early for my flight. I didn't think this would be a problem. If you're late for your flight, now that’s a problem. When would "early" be a problem ever? Fine, you're early, now you just have to wait longer for whatever it is you are early for. So if it is a problem, it should only be a problem for to the early bird. They're not getting the worm right away. At least not yet.
And I am okay with not getting the worm right away. I am equipped to wait 5 hours until my plane boards. I have Nico with me. I have a book, wordsearch, writing, manga, and plenty of text messaging opportunities. I have been waiting for a chance to have ample free time and dammit, I came prepared for it!
The problem is there's this new rule about being too early for a flight. Apparently, anyone who wants to check-in over four hours prior to a flight cannot check-in. They are suspicious because after all, who in their right mind would just want to sit for five hours in a terminal? I'm guessing the government did a study on people who sit in the terminal for more than four hours and they concluded that they are either terrorists or anyone flying Frontier. So since I'm on jetBlue, I'm categorized as a terrorist.
Me. A terrorist. This lobster-faced 25 year-old carrying a ski bag packed masterfully with half her winter wardrobe and is exclaiming how she doesn't want to leave this Mormon state, is a terrorist. I'm very threatening. Watch out for my pack of Batman pencils in my bag.
Though I do not know all of this when I get on the long line to check-in. What kills me is that a jetBlue employee comes out from behind the counter and asks everybody on the queue, "Is everyone on this line for Long Beach and JFK? Anyone here for San Francisco because I will take you now." That's exactly what she says verbatim. Does she say JFK? Yes, I believe she does. So after hearing JFK, I know they are going to check me in. I tell this to Chris and Anna because now I can join tem for a drink in the terminal before they fly out in an hour.
"Where are you going?" this same employee asks me when I step up with my heavy bags.
"New York." And her face drops.
"Where in New York?"
And this is the point when I realize that they are not checking me in.
But I answer anyway. "JFK." Dummy, you know this. There are no other planes going to New York but the one I'm on. You just asked all of us if that's where we're all going. Why ask JFK if you're not going to let me go there?
She proceeds to stutter through excuses as to why I can't check-in early and at this point, I'm getting kinda pissy. The fact that I'm not going to ski for another 10 months is already making me miserable, plus the fact that in 38 hours I will be sitting at my dirty old-ass desk in the storage closet of the FASC and now you want me to miss out on a drink with my bro who I see like twice a year? You selfish selfish whore.
And this is the point when the curses start flying out of my mouth. I exit the line and set down my boot bag to get a better grip and this fat loser TSA on a power trip simply says, "You can't put your bag there." And this is the point when I punt the boot bag across the room.
Pher tries to get me to calm down but nothing is working. I hate the fact we have all these dumb rules because of the terrorists. I hate that because of these terrorists so many innocent people died including one of our friends. I hate the fact that the wrong measures are being taken at airports with the wrong people. So I slump down in an uncomfortable seat and pout.
Pher's used to this type of tantrum. Believe it or not, they started when I was 17. Most kids grow out of them by the age of six but I was such a happy child until I was 17. That's when I realized that people can really suck and ruin your day. But Anna hasn't really experienced my mood swings so she's trying to persuade Chris into staying with me here even though I'm telling them to go enjoy a drink without me.
"Katie's mad now and she's not talking to me," he whines. "I want to go to the terminal." I almost laugh at his bellyaching but remember I'm seething too much for that. We then say our goodbyes and I continue to slump and pout.
I know I'm being ridiculous but I can't help being angry for feeling so helpless. I need to focus my anger elsewhere or it's going to fester. I take out my sketch pad and as I do my pathetic-way-of-drawing, the bitterness and fury melts away, leaving behind the guilt and embarrassment of my swing.
But at least the product of my anger results in me finally being focused enough to draw out Steve's response to my response to the Superbowl Ads. His idea isn't for advertising, just a response. I liked it so I paneled it out.
We both agree that Verizon's commercial with Michael Bay should have totally run during the Superbowl but unfortunately it is too awesome and does not meet the criteria of being grotesque. Check it out:
And I am okay with not getting the worm right away. I am equipped to wait 5 hours until my plane boards. I have Nico with me. I have a book, wordsearch, writing, manga, and plenty of text messaging opportunities. I have been waiting for a chance to have ample free time and dammit, I came prepared for it!
The problem is there's this new rule about being too early for a flight. Apparently, anyone who wants to check-in over four hours prior to a flight cannot check-in. They are suspicious because after all, who in their right mind would just want to sit for five hours in a terminal? I'm guessing the government did a study on people who sit in the terminal for more than four hours and they concluded that they are either terrorists or anyone flying Frontier. So since I'm on jetBlue, I'm categorized as a terrorist.
Me. A terrorist. This lobster-faced 25 year-old carrying a ski bag packed masterfully with half her winter wardrobe and is exclaiming how she doesn't want to leave this Mormon state, is a terrorist. I'm very threatening. Watch out for my pack of Batman pencils in my bag.
Though I do not know all of this when I get on the long line to check-in. What kills me is that a jetBlue employee comes out from behind the counter and asks everybody on the queue, "Is everyone on this line for Long Beach and JFK? Anyone here for San Francisco because I will take you now." That's exactly what she says verbatim. Does she say JFK? Yes, I believe she does. So after hearing JFK, I know they are going to check me in. I tell this to Chris and Anna because now I can join tem for a drink in the terminal before they fly out in an hour.
"Where are you going?" this same employee asks me when I step up with my heavy bags.
"New York." And her face drops.
"Where in New York?"
And this is the point when I realize that they are not checking me in.
But I answer anyway. "JFK." Dummy, you know this. There are no other planes going to New York but the one I'm on. You just asked all of us if that's where we're all going. Why ask JFK if you're not going to let me go there?
She proceeds to stutter through excuses as to why I can't check-in early and at this point, I'm getting kinda pissy. The fact that I'm not going to ski for another 10 months is already making me miserable, plus the fact that in 38 hours I will be sitting at my dirty old-ass desk in the storage closet of the FASC and now you want me to miss out on a drink with my bro who I see like twice a year? You selfish selfish whore.
And this is the point when the curses start flying out of my mouth. I exit the line and set down my boot bag to get a better grip and this fat loser TSA on a power trip simply says, "You can't put your bag there." And this is the point when I punt the boot bag across the room.
Pher tries to get me to calm down but nothing is working. I hate the fact we have all these dumb rules because of the terrorists. I hate that because of these terrorists so many innocent people died including one of our friends. I hate the fact that the wrong measures are being taken at airports with the wrong people. So I slump down in an uncomfortable seat and pout.
Pher's used to this type of tantrum. Believe it or not, they started when I was 17. Most kids grow out of them by the age of six but I was such a happy child until I was 17. That's when I realized that people can really suck and ruin your day. But Anna hasn't really experienced my mood swings so she's trying to persuade Chris into staying with me here even though I'm telling them to go enjoy a drink without me.
"Katie's mad now and she's not talking to me," he whines. "I want to go to the terminal." I almost laugh at his bellyaching but remember I'm seething too much for that. We then say our goodbyes and I continue to slump and pout.
I know I'm being ridiculous but I can't help being angry for feeling so helpless. I need to focus my anger elsewhere or it's going to fester. I take out my sketch pad and as I do my pathetic-way-of-drawing, the bitterness and fury melts away, leaving behind the guilt and embarrassment of my swing.
But at least the product of my anger results in me finally being focused enough to draw out Steve's response to my response to the Superbowl Ads. His idea isn't for advertising, just a response. I liked it so I paneled it out.
We both agree that Verizon's commercial with Michael Bay should have totally run during the Superbowl but unfortunately it is too awesome and does not meet the criteria of being grotesque. Check it out:
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