Middle names can be fun. I don’t have a great middle name and I know a few people who have no middle name at all. Their parents probably thought that two names were sufficient. “We gave you a first name, we gave you a last name, we fed you until you were 18, now get the hell out of our house, you bastard.”
Parents sometimes give their kids stodgy lame-ass first names like Brock, Bradford or Benton, but to make up for that stale business, certain parents give them a middle name more appropriate for a party college, like Keanu or Rain or Primadonna or something. The kid will likely use his regular name for most of his life, but just before heading out to UCSB he’ll decide that instead of being known as Tim, he’s going to be known as Shilo for the rest of his life, because that’s his middle name and he and his folks really bonded over Neil Diamond. Okay. It’s fair. That’s why you were given three names, I guess. So you could bow-out if your first name makes you feel like … Click Here to Read On! …
Why don’t those pre-boarding jerks move faster? Why does it always take so long to get five children, two diabetic elderlies and a cripple onto one plane? Just because they’re all elderly and crippled? Move faster, selfish cripples! If you need some locomotion, let that man’s spaz children push you down the jetway.
Ever seen someone try to pre-board and then get shot down when they weren’t qualified? I have. It’s humiliating. Not for me, but for them. They usually don’t know that people are watching, but we are. And I’m big on smirking and putting out some serious, “That’s what you get for trying to get over on someone,” vibes. It’s usually a husband and wife who just got their AARP cards and are testing the system to see what kinds of discounts they can get and whether or not they cut the lines at Disneyland. It’s totally hilarious to see people get shot down for pre-boarding. It’s such a stupid embarrassment to go through and it’s avoidable if you have even the most entry-level sense of dignity. The idea that pre-boarding is the choicest cut of meat, is based on the silly premise that it’s BETTER to get onto a plane first. Huh? Really?
Most people don’t qualify for pre-boarding, which makes Boarding Group One the most coveted acquisition for the average guy on a trip. But within this elite group is a sickeningly competitive tension to get to the front of the line, assuming the airline’s boarded all of the selfish cripples. If you were the first person pressed against the velvet rope in the Boarding Group One line and someone were to cut in front of you, you’d totally flip out, wouldn’t you? You’d get in that person’s face and talk a ton of shit right into their eyes just like a white rapper. “You bitch-ass mark! Trying to cut in front of me? Fuck you, you piece of shit! Yo mama didn’t teach you right? Punk-ass bitch!” We’re mean at the airport, aren’t we? Because it’s an international airport in a big city, and we’re from a small chickenshit town like Studio City or Valley Glen and we feel like we have a social responsibility to REPREZENT for our barrios or whatever.
But back to my point: Why would you ever get on a plane sooner than you have to? The toilets are better at the airport, there are more bars, bookstores and restaurants. And more leg room! So if you want to fight me to get to the head of boarding group one, go right ahead, knuckle-nuts; I’ll just stretch out in the terminal for an extra ten minutes and breath a slightly more humid brand of recirculated air while you’re hunched with your seat-back up, reading the SkyMall order form.
