A Few Fuck-Yous…


…Brought to you by international air and train travel.

1. Fuck you for wearing your skunk perfume on a plane (also on the train…I’m looking at you, passengers of renfe who showered in old man cologne). I’m glad you’re making an effort to smell good but we’re all hurtling through the sky in a coke can so everyone can smell everyone else a little too well and I will sneeze on you.

2. Fuck you for wearing your nicest heels and jewels through the security line. I’m glad you’re wealthy and old, but there’s really no reason to hold up the line with your nonsense just so you can stick your fake nose a little higher in the air.

3. Fuck you for looking nice on an airplane, honestly. This isn’t so much of a fuck you as it is a how is this possible? I look like a gremlin who was caught in a flood and a tornado and a hornets nest. It’s just rude to look so much better than me, and to make it all look so effortless. I’m wearing socks with sandals, goddamn it, because I’m tired, these shoes were too heavy to check through, and my toes get cold. I’m a wreck. This is a PSA.

4. Fuck the system. Or…yeah. Fuck this whole first class business class nonsense. I get it, because I, too, would like to actually be able to stretch my (very long) legs out whilst flying. But I can’t, because I don’t have money flying off of trees and landing in my wallet.

5. Speaking of first class, fuck the stupid curtain. “Okay so what we’ll do is take the rich people and put them up front and then keep the plebs away from them with a mesh curtain.”

6. Fuck airports that don’t have free unlimited wifi. Sorry I have a six hour layover and wanted to write on my laptop but only had 30 minutes to do it, JFK. Sorry. So sorry I refuse to pay $5 an hour for shitty wifi. On that note, fuck writing a blog post on your cell phone whilst using data.

7. Fuck. I’m so fucking tired. I’m in that mood where nothing matters so I don’t understand why people put any effort into anything non-essential. Also I broke a nail and I’m annoyingly emotional about it.

8. 12 hours down, 8 to go. There’s no place like home. Fuck everywhere else.

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Fisticuffs at Four


BAH traveling is hard. I mean, not hard compared to actually hard things such as getting into a ninja fight or climbing Mount Everest with one arm tied behind your back…but it’s totally hard compared to chewing gum or putting on a sock.

It gets harder when you’re me and totally confused 90% of the time. My brain goes off on holiday whenever it actually needs to focus, like in the Seattle airport or during finals week. So here’s a quick rundown of my awesome time traveling home:

1. Engaged in verbal fisticuffs with a girl on the Light Rail on my way to the airport.
I was sitting in my seat and zoning out, looking at the girl’s foot/leg by accident, not because I had a personal vendetta against her jeans (though, come to think of it, they were pretty ugly), when she had a total heart attack and got mad at me. Well sorry, sister, but I like to let my eyes wander about freely, uninhibited. So they can look at your foot if they want. But since you insist, I will divert my gaze out the window and get carsick (or rather, light rail sick).
But she was mad now, so she kept staring at me for about 15 minutes, mumbling things to her (more normal) friend who kept trying to calm her down. I felt like I was in middle school, with the mean girls staring at me and giggling from across the classroom…Anyway, toward the end of the ride I may or may not have looked her straight in the eye at which point she called me a bitch and then my alter ego Chantel came out (keep in mind that Chantel is a pretty tame alter ego and usually only ends up saying slightly insulting things to people who totally deserve it…)
Girl: Bitch, look away!
Me/Chantel: What the hell is your problem?!
Girl: Bitch! (She may have not kept repeating bitch, but I can’t really remember what she actually said so we’ll just fill in the blank spots with profanities.)
Me/Chantel: You’re crazy! Get off the train. Just get off. (It was her stop, so I wasn’t being that threatening…it was just logical that she get off…)
And there you have it: fisticuffs at dawn (4 p.m.)

2. Lost my boarding pass at Qdoba.
I just wanted a taco! But noooo, my brain was so excited about the taco that I left my boarding pass on the counter and went to my gate before realizing (20 minutes later) that I no longer had it. I sprinted back and, somehow, no one had thrown it away and it was sitting there, whimpering, “Cappy, how could you have forgotten me? You’re so cruel.”

3. I think that was it, actually. It just seemed more like 10 things because I kind of wanted to throw a suitcase at that girl.

Good news is: I am home! Yay! Back to the land of wheat, where people actually wear helmets while bicycling and nobody tries to steal me off the street!

How to Be a Champ


Step One: Say Excuse Me.

After you burp: “Excuse me.”
After (or before) you make an offensive comment: “Excuse me.”
After pushing someone out of your way: “Excuse me.”
After accidentally shoving the elderly to the ground: “Mah baad.”
After punching someone in the neck (on accident of course, you were just stretching): “Pardon.”
Make sure you never stop to actually apologize, as they’ll probably feel embarassed or be overcome by your greatness.

Step Two: Recline Your Seat on the Airplane
Plane seats were made to recline specifically for your pleasure. Everyone should understand that you’re much more tired and uncomfortable than they are, so don’t worry about asking permission. Assume permission. You worry about yourself all day, why should you be responsible for worrying about others? You’re on this plane to relax. You might not have time when you get to the Cayman Islands, so make sure you do it here. Go on, lean back. And if you’re searching for extra champ points, don’t hesitate to put your feet up. The guy in front of you won’t mind.

Step Three: Interrupt. Constantly.
They invited you to this party, they should let you be the star. Why are they still talking? Cut them off, show them who’s boss. Why would they want to talk about their wedding when they could hear about your honors student?
It’s especially important to show newcomers your ringleader status, so whenever they speak, make a sarcastic comment (preferrably about how little money they make) and move on to what they really need to know about: You.

More to come…