The Joy Of Flying
My memories of flying when younger aren’t exactly idlyllic - maybe a little boring around the edges, but effective enough - I would arrive at a planned destination and could get to the business of forging happy memories.
Up until a few years ago, I seem to recall that it normally followed these steps:
1) Get on plane
2) Fly
3) Land at destination.
These days, it seems it’s not quite the same. Almost every single flight I take is delayed, or is missing paperwork, or didn’t get fueled, or is too heavy, or unbalanced, or SOMETHING.
They almost always result in a missed day of vacation or a second hotel room purchase or a darkening of the carry-on bags I keep under my eyes. Generally, this ends up with me being shooed away from customer service with a hastily printed 50-dollar-off-future-tickets-with-the-same-stellar-organization certificate.
As I speak, a co-worker is grounded in Roanoke while they try to shake out the nationally-scoped traffic jams caused by some storms in Detroit that happened hours ago.
That, however, is probably a picnic compared to this guy’s experience, all joyously captured on digital: