Damn it's Windy

This post will probably reach you later than usual because for some reason it's an hour earlier here in the great Midwest. Since my first flight got canceled and the second one got delayed it took me approximately 12 hours to get to Chicago door-to-door. I could have dressed up like a hooker, hitchhiked along back roads, and gotten here in half the time.

I have many problems with airlines these days, and I have a few general questions I'd like to share with you...

-Why does it take so long for people to get off the plane once we've pulled into the terminal? Get your damn bags and vacate the premises. I hate sitting in my seat in row 24 watching complete morons try and pull their twelve carry-ons out of the racks. Just check a bad for godsakes.
-How is there no law that says you can only text your friends and loved ones when the plane lands? I can't stand the lady next to me that immediately calls up her man once the tires have hit the runway, and then has a 15 minute conversation with him about drapes and kitchenware and how great their kids are. Can't you just text 'Landed safely, and still a pain in the ass'...
-Why haven't they invented headphones that have a cushion on the side so I can catch some sleep while rocking out to Rod Stewart at the same time? I just copyrighted it actually, so don't try anything funny.
-Doesn't security in airports seem to be a bit lax these days? Everyone working there is laughing and joking around with each other, while I'm waiting in line with my shoes off and my pants around my ankles because I had to take my belt off. Aren't you people supposed to be breaking balls and taking names? Not a good sign...
-One last thing...If you get to your seat and someone's next to you with their headphones on staring out the window, do NOT attempt to start a conversation. When anyone tries to converse with me on a plane about how great their life is, I have to resort to incredible lies.

Random Douchebag: Hey I'm Mike, what are you goin to Chicago for?
Me: I'm the headlining act at the Chicago Rib-Fest that happens this weekend.
Random Douchebag: Oh wow, what instrument do you play. I'm a consultant!
Me: I actually play the ribs. I take a slab of ribs, grab a guitar pick, and strum away like mad.
Random Douchebag: You must be talented. I'm a consultant!
Me: Sorry, but if I don't sleep at least 18 hours a day I lose my rib-focus.
Random Douchebag: So I work for the government technically, but it can get tiresome with all the beaurocratic nonsense that goes on in the corporate str-
I have immediately gotten up from my seat and asked the flight attendant to sit me in between an overweight snoring man from Canada and a crying baby.

One of my favorite things about going to another town, no matter what the occasion, is to lie profusely about what it is I do for a living. People are obsessed with other peoples jobs for some odd reason, and I find it easier to deal with these people if you're constantly making up lies. Also, make sure you pick something incredibly cooler as an occupation than what they do.

This weekend I work for the International Olympic Committee that has recently declared Chicago, IL as one of the four finalists for the 2012 summer games. My job will be to live in Chicago for the next three months analyzing the tourism industry to see if the city can handle an influx of guests for the Olympics. I will be touring each venue in the city and monitoring the security measures along major traffic spots. The kids are gonna eat that up. Next time you travel, make up something and give it a shot...

See ya Monday where I will discuss the imbroglio of Post-WWII Russia. I'm kidding, we're gonna talk about breakfast sandwiches.