Virgin No More…

photo:deviantart.com
photo:deviantart.com

Virgin America is now just another harlot.

The airline was recently sold to an aging mistress, Alaska Airlines.

Our Virgin flight yesterday from Ft. Lauderdale to Los Angeles was subpar.

I have always been a big fan of Virgin America.

It is my airline of choice for the many cross country flights that I frequently take.

Sir Richard Branson photo:telegrapg.co.uk
Sir Richard Branson photo:telegraph.co.uk

I have worked with Sir Richard Branson and greatly admire him.

I remember when I was 9 months pregnant and Richard was standing next to me at the Whisky A Go Go in LA during a Billy Idol concert.

My daughter’s foot was keeping time to Idol’s mega hits, White Wedding and Rebel Yell.

It was unbelievable how her clearly defined rhythmic appendage kept poking out of my belly .

Branson was spellbound and literally kept his hand on my stomach during Billy’s entire set.

Everything he touches turns to gold (Courtny did!!) so I have been a Virgin fan since its’ inception.

Unfortunately, this last flight was horrendous.

The plane was dirty, the service completely incompetent and the atmosphere riddled with noxious fumes.

Do gaseous passengers receive a disability discount on Virgin?

Even as the all clear alarm sounded, signaling our release from the confines of the seatbelt and permission to disembark, someone let out a final deadly blow.

The TV did not work in most of the rows. I asked three different flight attendants if they could reset the system.

The first one who had so many extensions that her head tilted to the right and should have been charged for excess baggage, gave the most scientific explanation.

“Like I don’t want to like reset the like system because you maybe like would get no channels. Maybe when like the turbulence stops the TVs will clear themselves.”

My mother, who can’t change a lightbulb, could provide a much more analytical explanation.

The second attendant, who was reading a romance novel when I had the audacity to approach (I was told not to linger near the galley as I had been in her sight line for 5 seconds) actually told me she was too busy and she would check back with me when she had a free moment.

I asked her if she was at the breathlessly enticing part of the book where the suave hero sweeps in to save the damsel in distress from the looting barbarians.

She asked how did I know that?

I quickly moved away from her overripe negative karma and headed for my gaseous seat which I paid extra for.

Such a deal…deadly aromas and no TV.

Definitely worth the upgrade.

My row comrade, the obese man in the middle seat, hogged my armrest.

We we’re making the requisite small talk as sweat dripped from his  brow onto my shoulder and I asked him if it was a bummer to pay extra for a middle seat.

He responded that he only sat in middle seats because the window seat was too claustrophobic and he didn’t like to be bumped in the aisle…go figure.

The turbulence was constant and the journey took an hour longer as the route changed, redirected from flying over Louisiana and Texas.

Instead, we bumped our way through the red states of Oklahoma and Colorado.

Whoopie, more time on this endless flight.

As this unpleasant journey came to an end, I especially appreciated the two peeps that clearly swiped right on tinderinthesky.com.

They stalled departure as the entitled lovebirds traded emails and kisses in the middle of the single aisle aircraft.

Couldn’t the likely Mile High Club members have distributed the information during the 5 1/2 hour flight?

Frustration…breathe deeply…BP rising.

I think I need to stay grounded for a while.

photo:dribble.com
photo:dribble.com

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