in which I invite Southwest Airlines to dine upon a phallus

I really hate the American propensity for lawsuits. Most folks do, I'm sure, right up until they get their chance.

      There's a suit in the pipeline that I'm watching with interest. Here:

Man sues Southwest Air after carry-on bag falls on him


        Apparently a heavy, oversized bag that got shoehorned into an overhead bin fell out and bonked him in the head, causing a pretty severe neck injury.


 I flew Southwest just about 4 weeks ago, and it was a good reminder of why I'm more than willing to pay a little more to NOT fly Southwest. It's a flying leper colony staffed by unwashed, hung-over-smelling folks who look like they combed their hair with a firecracker.

 Seriously, Southwest can eat a dick, and so can the shitty people I had to fly with. I guess Southwest is the official airline of housing project residents.

      I usually don't carry a checked bag when I'm flying. I keep a full wardrobe of oily, shitty clothes aboard HAWSEPIPER's Afloat Global HQ/House of Style. I fly with my laptop bag and a small gym bag containing my ditty bag, a decent pair of loafers, and a change of clothes. That's it. Meanwhile, everyone around me was stuffing hockey bags and full-sized suitcases in the overhead bins. It was total bullshit, as, since it was the holidays, the flight was full, and Southwest does cattle call random-ass seating, and the stewardess, herself sporting dandruff, a touch of B.O., and wearing a stained, wrinkled outfit that she had obviously slept in, tried pretty hard to get me to check my bag. Rather than make a scene and get fingered by a TSA agent for a second time (I figure one rape-style handjob from a dude per flight is enough), I politely said no, the bag contained medication, and would fit under my seat just fine. But seriously, I guess since I was the only one not sporting prison tattoos on my face and neck, I was the one who was going to be asked to check a bag. 

      Well, at any rate, we left the gate only 25 minutes late to handle last-minute maintenance. I guess doing that shit ahead of time like the other airlines do must be too expensive. I got where I was going, eventually, and the car service my company uses sent me a driver who I know a little, and is real nice, so I didn't lose my shit or anything. If anything, it made me happy(ish) to arrive at the Q and settle into work.

         Still, I cringe whenever I have to fly Southwest. I can handle the sardine-like density, the miniature armrests, the stewardesses who need to go to rehab. It's the passengers that truly kill me. I'm becoming a snob. I swear on Sting's flying metal codpiece from 'Dune' that I'll do all in my power to not fly them again.