Hating Everything ABROAD/ The Start of the WYSNLYBTG- Day One: Minneapolis is for Demons

Hey.

Guess what?

THIS ISN'T A CANNED POST!

Aren't you stoked? I know I am. Because there is SO MUCH to hate about my travels!

So I would like to formally introduce you to a brand-new segment of How to Hate Everything, entitled...

The Why You Should Never Leave Your Basement Travel Guide, a.k.a. WYSNLYBTG!

Do you like my acronym? YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT YOU DO BECAUSE IT'S THE BEST FUCKING ACRONYM IN THE WORLD.

So at the start of my travels, I went to the airport bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to expand my horizons and affect the world in a HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE WAY.

I'm waiting in line to get my ticket at the check-in desk because I'm flying overseas and they presumably know that I have a few warrants and a knack for carrying explosives and cane toads onto international flights.

I get in line. But not just any line. THIS LINE.

WHY.

I'm waiting in this line against my own will, in front of a woman who has this sketchy-ass dog in her laptop case. But hey, whatever! I don't judge freaks.

As hour one passes by, I hear one of the Delta line lackeys, (you know, those middle-aged people in white polos that are paid to walk around the line,) telling someone in the line that my flight to New York, which is where my connecting flight is from, has been CANCELLED.

Rock on, Delta. You know what you can do for me? Maybe when I call to confirm my flight a few hours before, you can TELL ME THE EFFING TRUTH AND NOT LIE TO ME ABOUT MY FLIGHT BEING ON SCHEDULE. Unless that was some sort of sick joke, and you meant that the flight was "on schedule" because the schedule was that it wasn't going to fly. In which case, WELL-PLAYED DELTA. Well-played, indeed.

So as I'm going to work out another flight, I have ample time, meaning TWO MORE HOURS, to stand in line and listen to the Delta people give everyone that checks in an AWFUL TIME. One woman asked if she was in the right line to change her flight and the man tells her, "No. I think that's the conga line." Guess what, Delta guy? You need to EFFING CONGA BECAUSE YOU'RE BALDING AND YOU NEED TO LOSE SOME WEIGHT BECAUSE YOU ARE A WALKING MANATEE AND EVERYONE HATES YOU.

They re-schedule my flight to go through Minneapolis. Minneapolis. Nuff said.

I get there and my layover is FOUR HOURS. Four. Four hours in Minneapolis. Would you like to know something about the Minneapolis airport other than the fact that it's an airport and therefore designed to make you miserable? All of the chairs there are REALLY uncomfortable.

What happens next? Do I get on the plane? Do I catch my flight? Do I break a window in the Minneapolis airport and wreak havoc on Minnesota?

You'll just have to tune in soon, for a more timely installment of....

WYSNLYBTG!

God damnit, that's the best fucking acronym EVER MADE.

Lucy

P.S. Can't wait to catch up on your blogs ASAP!