Holiday rants

My mom found this in her e-mail the other day and sent it to me. From last year when I was stuck in the airport for-e-verr--I just had to post it!

I’ve never experienced the suspense of the stocking stuffer craze, but I’m certain that holiday travel is a hundred times worse than any vile thing you could possibly stuff into your child’s sock for Christmas.

“Sorry little Henry, looks like mommy booked you a thirteen hour flight delay for your Christmas Eve. Now, aren’t you glad you didn’t get that super soaker you’ve been whining about for the past three months?

I would have to say so; this is way cooler. You see, Mom and dad get that vacation they’ve been waiting for since that frightful day in the maternity ward, and little Henry gets a lesson in maturity. Every body wins!

Then again…I suppose that’s why I prefer Hanukkah. It’s simple: you either get entirely ripped off OR your grandparents give you some decent presents that you either really enjoy or find a way to pawn off to someone else. But in the end none of this matters because you’re gonna have a damn good time with those menorah candles and your gelt candy, so it’s a win-win. Plus, if you’re really rambunctious, you know how to hustle your brother out of his holiday cash in a good game of dreidel.

Twelve hours in the airport. Yup, you got it: t-w-e-l-v-e:

Now, normally this amount of time is set aside for fun-filled, happy things like -sleeping, carnivals, eating contests, or marathons for orphans and such. Well, I’m no track star, and I’m certainly no Japanese hot dog eating champion; but I am a naïve little college student who eagerly sat in the JFK airport waiting for her flight number to be called after an 9 hour flight push-back.

What a difference nine hours makes in your ability to withstand normal human interaction. I sat there listening to the buzz of children screaming; cell phones (and the obnoxious ring tones that come with them), and the mysterious PA system announcer--guy just wondering what the hell I was doing there. How could so many people have babies and not be on the verge of death and a total rampage? Why does everyone love to travel?

And most annoyingly, what’s WITH this airport and this city and all of its ‘holier than thou’ attitude? Sure, I come from Palm Beach, a place of equal snobbishness and botox–mania that could one day give NYC a run for its money, but seriously…what was this? It wasn’t hell—they don’t have ESPN blaring on plasma T.V.’s—but it was close enough for me to be completely consumed by disgust.

It was then that I finally somewhat understood the appeal of the Amish lifestyle. I do like pie, afterall. And quilts…

Alright, Alright, so that little epiphany of mine only lasted for a good 15 seconds—until my phone rang and I was back to this century and the coca-cola lifestyle.

Coca –cola? I know I know, what does that have to do with anything airport-related? Well, to put it simply… everything. I’m not talking strictly about that great corrosive drink I loved as a child (2 a day keeps the enamel away. Or maybe it just rots your teeth, stomach, and everything in between, but don’t quote me on that).

I’m talking the cola industry, my friends. The industry –the one of many, anyhow—that promises us style, comfort, and all the happiness we could ever hope for. Just look at those commercials, where there are beautiful men and women laughing and frolicking like little girls in Central Park, of all places! They are the ones that sell it, that great American Dream we’ve come to love so dearly. They’re what New York is all about.

So … in this 12 hour journey from hell, I have learned nothing other than a few new catchy ring tones, the ‘fair’ price of bottled water, and the total joke that is …Holiday Travel.

Get those Christmas lights down before New Years this time!

I went on like 3 mini-tangents there...but overall, this is quality stuff. im pleased.