discardia

Here is the scene: Dark and stormy night, sand as far as the eye can see. In the midst of egyptian ruins, Indiana Jones and Sala on their stomachs, peering down into the depths of the Well of Souls. Indiana sighs deeply and rolls onto his back and mutters: “Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?”

To which Sala replies: “Asps. Very poisonous. You go first.”

Much like Indiana Jones and his aversion to any reptile without legs, I truly hate checking my bags when I fly. Whenever I check my luggage something goes wrong. Almost every single time I have ever checked my bag, it has gotten lost, damaged, or some other form of mayhem that typically ruins my day. And thanks to the wonderful TSA overreacting about gels and liquids (which has been disproven by many many many scientists as actually being a viable explosive), I HAVE to check my bag.

You know my flight to Amarillo last night? Yeah, my bag was on its way to somewhere else. And the Spanktard Award goes to…. (drumroll please)… Great Lakes airlines! For losing a bag on a straight through puddle jump flight with no connections, layovers or changes! You are all freaking retards! Dee, Dee, Dee!

So I had to haul ass to the local mall before it closed, by a change of clothes, necessary toiletries, and hope that my bag finds me before all my stuff runs out of juice. My iPod, DS lite and phone chargers are in my checked bag. I thought I would be smart and save wieght on my carry-on.

Yeah, who is the retard now?

Moi.