**Reposted from the first Lair, original date: 12/20/03
Fuck Bin Ladin. Fuck him up his stupid ass.
He is the reason why my day was so terrible. I swear to God.
So I head off to the airport two hours early to catch my flight to Washington DC which departs at 1:10 pm for two weeks of family torture -- er, I mean, FUN! I figure two hours would be plently of time for me to check in and get a bite to eat before the five hour trek across the country at 20,000 feet. And I was right, two hours was enough time... BARELY!
I got to LAX and the place was fuckin' PACKED! I'm talking filled to the brim with people here. Imagine what it would be like if John and George were resurrected and the Beatles were throwing a reunion concert, and you'll get an idea of how crowded this fucking place was.
So I muddle through the sea of people and get to the United terminal to check in. They've got something like 50 terminals open, and all of them are backed up. The thing is, they've substituted the old fashioned check-in for the new automated "self check-in" process so they could speed up the time it takes to get people to the terminal. Now, I've used the self check-in before, and its quite painless. But you'd think they were asking most people to perform tripple by-pass surgery on the Pope to get them to use these things.
So I wait in line to check in, and this old guy in front of me is getting all flustered at the terminal because it seems he is unable to grasp the technology of "sliding your credit card." He has to hail down a United rep to walk him through a process designed for kindergardenters. Then, a bunch of acne-ridden teenie boppers start cutting in line and pissing people off. On top of that, you got a couple yahoos checking in baggage and blocking the terminals, which just backs the line up even further and pisses more people off.
So I get checked in, and they send me to this security checkpoint to drop off my bag so it can be searched before it gets on the plane. I'm standing in this line for 40 MINUTES! Not only that, but I'm sandwitched between the annoying teenie boppers and a guy with three of the skankiest girls I've ever seen in my life hanging off him (I wanted to introduce them to the word "shower," but I felt I might be overstepping my bounds). Therefore, I continue to wait, watching the OTHER security checkpoint line move through at warp speed as I'm stuck grinding my teeth to the nub. Then I get up to the head of the line. A guard comes up to me and looks at my bag. "Is that it?" he asks. "Yep." I reply. "Move along," he says. So I'm off to the next checkpoint. Mind you, this took TWO SECONDS. I began to wonder how many bombs the people in front of me were carrying for our line to take 40 FUCKING MINUTES to get through.
So I'm waved to the next security checkpoint and wait in another line. Only this isn't the line for the next security checkpoint. Its the line to GET to the line for the next security checkpoint. I pass that and go to the REAL line which is where they x-ray your bags and you go through a metal detector. I'm stuck in this thing and amuse myself by looking at any HB I can find to pass the time (I didn't see many, and the ones I did were too far away to sarge). So I finally get to the X-Ray and pass the metal detector, making my way into the terminal.
By this point, I have a half hour before my flight leaves. I'm hungry as hell because I didn't have time to eat that morning, so I wanted to go to Wolfgang Puck's to have a nice meal before I'm subjected to what passes for airline food these days, only there is no time, so I opt for McDonalds. Of course, this ends up being bizzaro McDonalds because its neither cheap NOR fast. I end up waiting 15 minutes for a Big Mac that cost me $10.
So I head to my gate with the most expensive Big Mac on the planet and start scarfing my food down. I strike up a conversation with a guy next to me as I do so. He's wearing full army dessert fatigues, so I ask him where he's headed. He says he's on his way to Iraq. It turns out this dude has been on 2 weeks leave and was in the war from the beginning. He was there when the troops invaded from Kuait, he was there when they took Bagdad, and he was there when they fought ambushes at Tekrit. Suddenly, this guy who can't be a year or two older than me is telling me more war stories than my grandfather, and I can't help but be in awe and scared at the same time.
Now, I'll be the first to admit I'm a lover, not a fighter. I don't want to fight anybody and I certainly never want to have to take another human life. But I look at guys like the dude I was talking to at the gate, and I am so proud to live in a country where there are men who are brave enough to step up to the plate and fight with the very real possibility of dying to protect pussies like me. I've got friends over in Iraq, and I'm afraid they may not come back. I have friends who are going to be GOING to Iraq, and I'm afraid for them as well. But I am so thankful this country has guys like them, because its their sacrifice that allows me to go out and try and pick-up chicks every night. So I look at this army guy who looks to be around my age but carries the weight of his experience around with him like he were 100 years old, and I ask myself what kind of a world we live in when guys my age are war veterans, it takes 2 hours to get through and airport, and Big Macs cost $10?
If what they say is true and there is a paradise with 70 virgins waiting for the next guy to blow up his shoe to arrive, I hope to one day do my part and use my skills to sarge every last one of those chicks, so Habeeb McBoom-Boom gets nothing but sloppy seconds when he shows up. And if there really is an Allah, he'll give all the girls genital warts. And if he's a REALLY just God, he'll make them slightly overweight and brain damaged to boot. That way, the next camel-fucker who pulls a bomb out of his ass can really get what's coming to him.
Posted by Thundercat on 02/04/2004 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
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