It never fails.  Flying out of Los Angeles I always encounter Angry Birds.

Last weekend’s escapades included irate travelers due to the three hour delay on account of runway construction at JFK.

Original home base departure was 8am. Uber was in our ‘hood and arrived immediately. The drive to the airport took a mere 20 minutes and there was barely a line at security so that gave us 4 hours for a lovely leisurely mediocre breakfast at Gladstone’s.

For only $13.00 you can indulge in a scrambled egg with a single slice of tomato and 3 lonely black beans.

We finally boarded and that was when the fun commenced.

We had purchased priority seats so we were able to board early and be privy to all the snarky comments.

As the line in the aisles grew so did tempers.

Carry on was confiscated due to lack of overhead space and peeps were bitching.

Two entitlementors had ventured down the aisle to find carry on storage, broadcasting their disgust the whole way. Apparently, they had purchased priority seating…here’s a tip…probably wise to board with the priority group.

The gum chewing, hair flicking twentysomethings then attempted to return to row 5. One pissed off woman would not succumb and held her ground refusing to back up and flifthy Angry Bird words ensued.

An older woman was flipping out about the crowded aisles during the boarding process and bellowed, “How am I supposed to stay a virgin on Virgin with all these people crowding my vagina and my butt?” She was way north of 70 and if she is still a virgin I would assume that this endeavor was a stimulating moment in time.

One man with a gigantic backpack kept twisting in the aisle next to me, banging his overstuffed pack into my boobs.

After the 3rd time I grabbed a hold of his backpack while envisioning his scrotum and told him he was molesting my boobs…stop with the unyielding twister game.

We finally were airbourne. The first half was pleasant enough. The flight attendants were lovely and Kathleen sent me a bottle of wine because I was not an Angry Bird…how nice was that.

I am also delighted to report the next 1500 miles were turbulent, matching my recent life pattern of a rough road. What more could I ask for? Maybe a broken toe. Dreams do come true. I self-inflicted at 5 am on day of departure.

Oh, I forgot to mention my favorite fellow passengers who were first to line up for boarding. They took sole possession of the front of the line and body blocked all who approached.

When first class was called I expected them to dodge onto the plane. Nothing. I completely forgot about them and then suddenly looked up and noticed they were the last 2 to board. A passenger announced that the annoying couple had repeatedly asked the gate agent if it was their time to board…boarding group D means the last group, Dumbies.

Tardy for the flying party…let us not forget the guy who ran onto the plane as they were closing the doors. How can you be late for a flight that was delayed 3 hours and are not a passenger arriving from a  connection…probably finishing his $13 egg at Gladstone’s Restaurant.

And I wonder why people drive me crazy.

Gotta love me some Angry Birds.

Refresh with the original Angry Bird at: https://ifthedevilhadmenopause.com/angry-bird/