ok, i admit it. i'm a continental-elite status-i-only-walk-on-blue-carpets snob. i cried the entire time enroute to hobby airport, and actually sort of not really had a panic attack as to how i would manage to survive a flight on southwest airlines.
i have always flown continental. since it's based out of houston, i think most people i know do the same. and given my ocd tendencies, switching airlines is WAY out of my comfort zone. which is never a good thing.
and in recent years, the peters have leapt into elite status and have been flying first-class on our latest excursions. not that we can afford it, but we do it anyways. i just have to turn an extra trick or two on the weekends.
so 3 days after getting back from europe, it was time to jet off to vegas to see our friends get married. they were flying southwest, so we decided that would be fun to fly with them.
until about 3 hours before the flight, i started freaking out:
- how do they check luggage? do they just toss it on a plane and hope it gets there?
- who works the counters? is it only retards and people missing vital appendages?
- what is this about no assigned seating? will it be as insane as a nordstrom's shoe sale? should i bring my gun?
- do they serve food on the plane? or do they just dump a pile of pb&j sandwiches on the floor and it's first come-first serve? (actually, i love pb&j, so i secretly hope this one's true)
all very valid concerns.
so we're driving into the airport. since there's only one terminal... well parking was, EASY. given the insanity that is intercontinental's maze of terminals, easy parking is not something we're used to. plus, the arm just lifted for us (no ticket), as it just read our tollbooth eztag. um, wow.
i pre-printed our boarding passes, so we ease into the check-in line, no wait.
the counter lady (she's normal-looking), smiles and checks our bags, without even weighing them. what?! no holding our breath to see if we make the 50 lb limit?!
2 seconds later, we're already on our way.
a lady approaches us with a clipboard... oh, here it is. the catch.
clipboard chick: "would you mind sparing a few minutes to answer a few questions?"
me: "sorry, we're in a bit of a hurry. i haven't had my morning vodka yet, and i'm about to start experiencing withdrawals."
cc: "that's ok. i'll walk with you."
me: "whatever."
cc: "how was your check-in experience?"
me: "fine."
cc: "did you wait long?"
me: "nope."
cc: "great! thanks for your time, and here's 4 free drink coupons for your trouble. have a nice flight!"
bryan and i look at eachother... normally we would high-five under such circumstances, but we would never let anyone see us enjoying ourselves at hobby airport.
security. we're sure to run into some snags here. no one breezes into an airport this quickly and easily and scores free drinks without any problems.
dammit! no line, no hassle. if i have to start liking southwest, i will be one pissed off blonde. no one takes me out of my comfort zone and gets me to like it!
but alas, the ease and comfort continue. fast boarding, leather seats, friendly stewards, plentiful pillows, and strong drinks were the theme of this flight. and dare i say it... i am pretty sure the seats recline a good 1-2 inches more than continental's.
*quickly begging forgiveness from the blue carpet gods*so basically, it was a cheap flight with no inconvenience. and i might venture as far as to say that hobby airport isn't as dirty as i had thought.
so would i be an idiot to go back to continental and my blue carpet status? sure i would. but that won't stop me. at least i'll be an idiot with big tits.
| posted on Tuesday, August 19, 2008
never has a phrase been more appropriate in my life.
we went on holiday for 2 weeks, and here are a few of the things that i did for the first time ever in my life...
- watched as an active volcano erupted before our very eyes... lava and all. un-freaking-believable.
- taxi'd on a runway for longer than 3 hours... thank God for first-class, or i might not have survived. spoiled? yes. kidding? no.
- got kicked off a beach in sorrento. stoopid italians.
- chose drinking inside a bar vs. touring the colosseum. i'm sorry, but i have a limit on how many old buildings i can see in one day.
- got sick, throw-up sick, on a plane. i have ridden a plane about 5 million times in my life, and this was most definitely a first. the most embarrassing part was having to ask the hot (albeit gay?) steward for a glass of lukewarm ginger ale. hopefully i didn't have any chunks stuck on my lip. call me.
- had drinks in grand central station.
- went sailing.
- went sailing in malta.
- reached my limit in champagne consumption. if i taste one more drop of champagne, so help me...
- had my butt, quads and hamstrings slathered in pure alkaline and eletrocuted every 4 seconds for 45 minutes straight. i might as well have been vacationing in gitmo.
- told a maltese man that i had only known for 4 hours that i loved him. and meant it.
- passed gas with friends as a form of entertainment. nevermind, i lied. i've done this before.
- took better pictures than bryan. i was armed with our dinky little canon sd-whatever, and he with the mac-daddy camera, fancy lenses and all. the results speak for themselves. that's what you get when you dress like a tourist, peters.
- had a girl hit on me by telling me she had a brownie sundae that she wanted to make just for me, so i could taste the warm topping.
| posted on Wednesday, August 13, 2008
we leave for europe in a few weeks.
then we go to vegas a few days after we get back.
then cabo after that.
life is rough. now if i can just find those credit cards....
| posted on Thursday, July 10, 2008
some things that bother me. in preparation for any time you're around me. now you know.
- clipping your nails at work. there is a time and place for everything, and clipping your nails in your office is simply wrong. i don't care if you have your own office, i can still hear it. and every snip is a harsh reminder that you are voluntarily cutting off parts of your body within a 10-foot radius of where i am sitting. which is not acceptable.
- men saying "bless your heart". this is a common phrase that i say, as do many other women. but hearing a man saying it... well, man-that-says-bless-your-heart, you might as well cut off your balls and carry them around in a crocheted satchel.
- people that feel the need to carry on conversation in the elevator... with strangers. look, just because we are sharing the same airspace for 23 seconds doesn't mean you have the right to become my new bff.
that's it.
| posted on Wednesday, July 09, 2008
let's face it... i'm a total chicken. i can't even watch living lohan without putting my hands over my eyes.
so i'm not sure what exactly possessed me to agree to watch "the scariest movie ever made". bryan found a spanish film that has horror movie buffs touting this as one of the creepiest, and has been begging me to watch it with him.
so armed with my taco bell, pajamas, great dane, the light of day, and chemically-relaxed with half a hydrocodone, i felt pretty brave. bring it on.
during the course of the movie, i somehow developed a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach, and i know what you're thinking... but believe me, my body is trained to eat 12 supreme burritos in the course of one day. it wasn't the bell - it was the movie.
by the end, i was clenching bryan's hand and said something like "i want to die." i was already anticipating how i would sleep the next 2 weeks with the lights on.
it's called *rec, and it's f*cking scary. i mean it people.
| posted on Monday, July 07, 2008