When Delta announced that it was issuing lifetime bans to passengers who got all snotty with the flight attendants about masks on the flight, I wasn't too upset about it.
I learned about it back when Robert O'Neill apparently caught a ban for mask-related offenses on a flight.
"Thank you for your service, sir. Now please cover your germhole."
Look, dude, it's Delta's airplane. If they say you gotta sing "I'm a little teapot" to fly, then you sing "I'm a little teapot" or you don't fly and I don't care if you shot thirty seven Osama Bin Ladens or not.
Now stow your bag and sit down, the rest of us kids have connecting flights we gotta catch.
Jesus, my personalized version of Hell will be filled with all the "Special" people I've run into on airlines. "No, honey, don't worry; when they said 'all carry-on bags must fit in the overhead bin or under the seat in front of you', they didn't mean you."
I know that 'being a sheeple and doing what you're told' does not come easily to some people, but the miracle of modern air travel only goes smoothly if everyone on the flying Greyhound does exactly that. Fricking swallow your dignity for twenty-nine minutes and do what the sky waitress tells you so we can get to Detroit on time and then you can go on a freedom tirade to the gate agent when we get there.
Sample of one and all, but I was in seat 2A of a Delta A320 from ATL-IND yesterday afternoon, and the Brylcreem'ed jackhole in seat 1A not only had to be asked to adjust his face-sock twice by the flight crew, but also used his cell phone until it lost signal on climbout from Hartsfield, and then along about Chattanooga he reclined his seat into my lap and kept it there until we deplaned in Indy, because all that bit about "returning your seatback to the upright position" didn't apply to him, apparently.
Can't wait until he gets banished from the Woolworths.
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