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Published: July 15th 2008
The following is a direct transcription of a page dated 6/19/08 bearing the title "Truth in Advertising" and was written somewhere between Minneapolis and London.
I have an idea. NWA should change it's name to GFYPA, or Go Fuck Yourself, Passenger Airlines.
For starters, there are children, CHILDREN in bulkheads and the (I assume) lonely Asian lady at check in basically ignored me when I asked about exit rows.
First things first though. So, my flight lands, does all the taxi bullshit for WAAAAAYYYY TOO LONG and left me less than 30 minutes to reach my plane. No biggie, because they have tan attendant at the gate to tell me where my next gate is, right? RIGHT? They have that, don't they?
Not so much. It appears that the basic customer service is too much to expect from an airline that charges people for peanuts.
Ok, so no agent, no big deal. My gate can't be that far away, can it?
Again, stop assuming shit, you will be wrong.
Thankfully, there was a kind cart driver who was willing to drive me the ONE FUCKING MILE (not exaggerating) to my plane. Again, not an exaggeration, it was a full mile away. Also, I'm not sure if the guy was not so subtly asking for a tip or if I just got blatantly hit on by a guy ("Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Then, you take care of me, you know?" mildly homo erotic, eh, a little. Potentially flattering? You bet your ass!)
Off topic (is there even a topic at this point to deviate from?)
Thoughts on Minne while booking ass at top speed from one end of the airport to the other. Quite nice. Really, it is all one could hope for in a massive transit labyrinth you need to cross with a quickness.
Back on topic.
You know how most airlines have an organized system of boarding by rows from the back of the plane, you know, the one that is all logical and reasonable and shit? Apparently NWA has no time for this. Not street enough, apparently. Instead, they call, wait for it EVERYONE AT THE EXACT SAME TIME!! The nice, orderly, time tested boarding procedure devolves into a biblical shitstorm. I am not kidding. I have witnessed monkey crap fights at the zoo that have a more cohesive plan.
Say what you will about Southwest Airlines, this shit feels like being on a giant city bus with wings strapped to it. There is no way in holy fucking hell all airline seats have this little leg room. It's like being in the back seat of an Eclipse, only without the prestige of driving an Eclipse. Now we are waiting for 15 people on a connecting flight from Vegas. However, we shouldn't worry because the pilot is promising to "make up some time" during the flight. I guess he knows a shortcut to London, so that bodes well.
So, next journal will be from Russell Square, on the Piccadilly line with service to Cockfosters (that always makes me laugh).
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