February 20, 2014
Attention: Mr. Ben Baldanza, CEO — Spirit Airlines
Dear Mr. Baldanza:
Look at the photo above. Take a really good look. Press your eyeballs right up against the screen. Sniff. Take it all in.
THAT’S WHERE I BUNKERED DOWN LAST NIGHT. All because of your incompetent ass-joker tinker-toy excuse of an airline.
Check out the breezeway with chunks of sour vomit splattered right outside my motel front door. What you don’t see were the gangbangers wandering the hallways the entire night, slamming doors, screaming profanities, serenaded by a hissing nest of feral cats parked outside my window making it IMPOSSIBLE to get any sleep. I ended up at this slimeball slumber party — all because of YOU. Make that, because of YOUR AIRLINE.
That’s right. It’s YOUR fault. SPIRIT AIRLINES FAULT. At the time I should have been buckled into my seat up in the air sipping away on my third cocktail some 35,000 feet over Kansas, instead I was padlocked into a dive motel room trying to tune out an argument down the hallway that thankfully didn’t escalate into gunfire. Oh, and I think at least one of the females was in heat. One of the cats, I mean.
Tell me something. Be honest. Would you want to stay in this shithole?
Let me level with you, okay. I’m going to teach you something.
I don’t care what all those fancy scientists and sandmen say. The pyramids were built by fools. Total idoits.
I mean, look at this gigantic thing in the photograph. These things weren’t built by “Monument’s Men.” Rather, what a monumental waste of space and time.
They spent like sixty years and forced more than 150,000 men and women to slave away seven days a week….and that’s the best structure they could come up with? Holy shit. Hell, it wasn’t even a union job.
And another thing. Who would be stupid enough to build a huge pyramid like that way out in the dessert? On sand dunes, no less. In the middle of nowhere.
Here’s a few construction sites that actually do make sense: The French Riviera? I get it. Bavaria? I get it. Bali, or Bora Bora? I’m there with ya. I could even see hauling and stacking limestone blocks somewhere in the middle of Alabama. On second thought, nevermind. Alabama is waaaaay worse that Egypt. I mean, have you ever stayed at the Motel 6 in Tuscaloosa? Bottom line — whoever the architect was that decided on a barren wasteland as a building site was either stoned off his ass, or should have been stoned (as in, to death).
What are the best gifts you’ve ever received?
Truth is, our most precious gifts are the things we often take for granted. Things like good health, our family, and our friends. These are priceless treasures, far more valuable than we realize — until they’re gone.
I’ve been blessed far beyond what I deserve. I’ve enjoyed the unconditional love and support of my wife for nearly 23 years. Two parents provided a solid foundation and the freedom and encouragement to become who I am. Friends have done more for me than I can possibly repay. Even people I’ve met and known for brief periods, often without knowing so, have done things that brought tears to my eyes. Indeed, gifts are constantly coming our way. Hopefully, you’ve been blessed as much as I have.
Yesterday’s article (CLICK HERE) made me think more about the best gifts I’ve ever received. Please indulge me on this special occasion. Allow me to share a few of these with you. The three things I remember most are — a blanket, a cat, and a silver charm.
Remember the tragic story of the pilots who took off from an airfield in Florida many years ago? They got lost during the flight and then disappeared, presumably ending up somewhere in the Devil’s Triangle.
At least the men who went missing and were never found had some legitimate excuses for veering off course. After all, they were flying World War II-era planes. They lacked sophisticated nautical systems. They didn’t have global tracking devices.
Such a thing couldn’t possibly happen today, could it?
In this modern day and age, imagine two grown men, both supposedly intelligent and semi-technologically advanced, getting so ridiculously lost that they would end up 120 miles away from their final destination. Impossible, right?
Tonight, I encountered something I don’t ever recall seeing — an airport check-in counter without a single flyer.
Not a single passenger, except for me.
I don’t know whether to be thrilled, or terrified. Should I be making a mad dash for the nearest exit?
It’s precisely 5:30 pm at the Las Vegas Airport. This place is supposed to be packed with travelers. I approach the American Airlines ticket counter, which always has a line. To my surprise, four agents are standing there waiting around with absolutely nothing to do.
Again, should I be loving this, or search for news about a bomb scare?