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Friday, October 9, 2009

Riding on Southwest

Sometimes, riding on Southwest is no worse than riding on any other airline. Usually, it is worse, far worse. The flight to Baltimore was an easy one. No one was sitting in the middle seats.

The flight back was wretched, and stands as testiment to what people are willing to endure to save a buck. It's also testiment to my need to remain employed. I would not do this and call it vacation.

Here's where we start.

SWA wants you to stand in line. You'll do better if you're mooing. I was 118 in line. I booked that flight two months ago.

See where that got me?

Think next to last row. Also think middle seat. With no where but under the seat on front of me to put my computer bag. But where to put my feet?

To my left, we gave Sleepy and Shy Man. He doesn't want to touch. This helps me claim some space for my arm and leg. He's hanging in the aisle. (I know his pain.)

On the right, we have Heavy-Set Holy Roller. He's reading some biblical tract from Alabama. Oh, what I'd give for a copy of the Blade.

We're rubbing enough leg to be engaged.

I drank the Diet Coke. Is that anything like drinking the Koolaide?

The plane landed on time without incident. The bag beat me to pickup. SWA does have it figured out. Well, for everyone but about me.

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