My flight out of Columbus is leaving a little behind schedule. The stewardess did her bit, and I felt like Brad Pitt through the whole thing. Not rich & famous, or sexy, or humanitarian, but cynical; wondering who any of this would keep me alive in an actual plane crash. We're finally moving now that I've heard "I Can't Stop Loving You" twice and they've kicked off two passengers to make weight requirements. The guy in front of me took a $400 travel voucher so he could get a direct flight to Rio de Janeiro. I don't know who else was bumped.
It's a small plane, and I'm a little cramped and hot right now. Chuck Klosterman just finished telling me not to worry about people in the UK hating me because I'm American, because they're just as unsophisticated and unintelligent as Americans hate French people for being French. I'm just hoping I don't miss my connecting flight to Newark.
Side Note: It doesn't inspire confidence that they had to bump two passengers to insure we have enough fuel for two hours of flight. Especially since we haven't even taken off yet.
Cheers.
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