Well, I didn’t get upgraded to first class on tonight’s flight. No huge deal – exit row and 1 hr 39 mins – I can suffer the indignity of coach, though I SHALL NOT PAY FOR A DRINK.
But, I digress. I’m sitting at gate N16 waiting for the plane to deplane. Note – I said, "waiting for the plane to deplane". In other words, the plane was still full of people climbing over each other, trying to get off.
Enter Captain Stridey. He was punishing the terrazo floors with his Florsheims with prejudice. He was on a mission, and his black blazer and starched white shirt would prove it to you in case the gait didnt. Bluetooth headset? Check. Gell’ed hair? Check.
I watched him with awe and envy – surely he couldn’t be on MY flight, could he? Someone like that – flying commercial? His G5 must have had a bad door seal – only explanation.
Indeed – he didn’t slow. He plowed through people who were standing near the gate door. He had the boarding pass in hand, outstretched, almost as though he was going to hand it directly to God himself. He doesn’t even need a silly gate agent to help him – he knows the drill. He inserts his boarding pass into the machine at the door only to be halted – HALTED – by a teeny, weeny little fact.
THE PLANE WAS STILL FULL OF FUCKING PEOPLE.
He kept inserting the boarding pass into the machine as though it were an ATM that, were he to try hard enough, might spit people from the plane instead of new $20s. Indeed, at the end, the gate agent came over and informed him that, despite his obvious affinity for importance, he couldn’t board the plane until the other people had come off.
Captain Stridey — you are still too cool for school in my book. Even though you ended up at the back of the bus – near the toilet. Your awesomeness halo keeps you from smelling the urine cake. I know. I’ve been there.