If you don’t pack lightly you’ll miss your flight. These are the rules. I didn’t make them; it’s just the way it is.
Life. Life doesn’t come around twice. Nor does it turn back around when you’ve done something not so right and allow you to correct it. That is how, if you are asking yourself, you have come to live the life your living at this present time.
I recon it takes at least eight times moving through an airport to realise how time consuming, exciting, and annoying it is. So if it took at least twenty times to learn from a common mistake, why would we feel a similar anxiety waiting in a never ending check in queue, to waiting for the right job to jump up and slap us in the face? Work in a pathetic dead end circuit for years to come, but don’t you dare have patience in customs.
Ever ask yourself why you’re paying to be bossed around, ignored, and looked down on by “atrocious excuses of human beings”? Next time, stop to think where they would be if you weren’t flying to a destination of your choice. Perhaps somewhere not losing hair over your travels?
So hit me with the typical argument that these people would not have jobs if it wasn’t for you travelling. Maybe too you could add the old “it’s their job, so they should be doing it right” speech, usually loudly utter by some half witted business man.
Yes, it is their job, and they know that, this is why they’re trying to move your arrogant ass through check in. So please continue walking this way sir.
Just move through quietly, and get to the other side. People who make noise stand out. People who get pissed off, stand out. Everybody wants to stand out. We can all band together in one pissed off army of bastards, join enraged forces and make the situation worse but feel better in the process. Then we can, red faced and bloody, get through to the other side and talk about the insanity, the cheek of these people to treat US in such a way. This way we will have something to yammer on about in the hours before boarding.
“Take your shoe’s off please”. Ok. Maybe I’ll take everything off and wander through stark. Just to make sure I’m not going to get frisked or bag searched again.
I love the airport. There’s something about people travelling that intrigues me.
Everyone, that isn’t there working, is only passing through. The limbo between start destination, and end destination. Or the start or end of many flights and bag dragging fun.
Passengers travelling alone, always seem to look like they’re in deep thought. Either that or reading a paper, looking around for someone to raise a smile at, or jittering around like a Telly Tubby to some cheery travel song of choice. Most of these people are probably doing none of the above, but it amuses me to categorise people in my pre-flight boredom, so bare with me.
Travelling with children? Either the whole world is about to collapse in on you, or there’s a dozen other passengers glaring at you enviously that you have something to occupy your time.
Me, I like to travel with my boyfriend, partly because he’s the only person I’ve travelled with recently, and mainly because there’s never a dull moment with him. You’ve got it made if you have a travel partner. It’s not always roses, but go ahead, argue, provide the onlookers with some form of mild entertainment for half an hour. People like to get pissed off; it gives them something to talk about.
Life. Life doesn’t come around twice. Nor does it turn back around when you’ve done something not so right and allow you to correct it. That is how, if you are asking yourself, you have come to live the life your living at this present time.
I recon it takes at least eight times moving through an airport to realise how time consuming, exciting, and annoying it is. So if it took at least twenty times to learn from a common mistake, why would we feel a similar anxiety waiting in a never ending check in queue, to waiting for the right job to jump up and slap us in the face? Work in a pathetic dead end circuit for years to come, but don’t you dare have patience in customs.
Ever ask yourself why you’re paying to be bossed around, ignored, and looked down on by “atrocious excuses of human beings”? Next time, stop to think where they would be if you weren’t flying to a destination of your choice. Perhaps somewhere not losing hair over your travels?
So hit me with the typical argument that these people would not have jobs if it wasn’t for you travelling. Maybe too you could add the old “it’s their job, so they should be doing it right” speech, usually loudly utter by some half witted business man.
Yes, it is their job, and they know that, this is why they’re trying to move your arrogant ass through check in. So please continue walking this way sir.
Just move through quietly, and get to the other side. People who make noise stand out. People who get pissed off, stand out. Everybody wants to stand out. We can all band together in one pissed off army of bastards, join enraged forces and make the situation worse but feel better in the process. Then we can, red faced and bloody, get through to the other side and talk about the insanity, the cheek of these people to treat US in such a way. This way we will have something to yammer on about in the hours before boarding.
“Take your shoe’s off please”. Ok. Maybe I’ll take everything off and wander through stark. Just to make sure I’m not going to get frisked or bag searched again.
I love the airport. There’s something about people travelling that intrigues me.
Everyone, that isn’t there working, is only passing through. The limbo between start destination, and end destination. Or the start or end of many flights and bag dragging fun.
Passengers travelling alone, always seem to look like they’re in deep thought. Either that or reading a paper, looking around for someone to raise a smile at, or jittering around like a Telly Tubby to some cheery travel song of choice. Most of these people are probably doing none of the above, but it amuses me to categorise people in my pre-flight boredom, so bare with me.
Travelling with children? Either the whole world is about to collapse in on you, or there’s a dozen other passengers glaring at you enviously that you have something to occupy your time.
Me, I like to travel with my boyfriend, partly because he’s the only person I’ve travelled with recently, and mainly because there’s never a dull moment with him. You’ve got it made if you have a travel partner. It’s not always roses, but go ahead, argue, provide the onlookers with some form of mild entertainment for half an hour. People like to get pissed off; it gives them something to talk about.
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