Funny story: I got to the airport this morning to fly to Minnesota (to cover tonight's game for you, esteemed reader), only to find out Gawker booked my flight for eight days from now. NIBBLES!
Yes people, we at Deadspin are so dedicated to serving you sports news without access, that we won't even access the proper flight itinerary. We're THAT fucking dedicated, and I'd like to see any of these other media bigwigs try and make a similar boast.
Seriously though, it would have been a fun time. I was scheduled to attend some ESPN luncheon (not lunch, mind you, but a lunchEON, which is like lunch in Panavision) that Suzy Kolber was also going to be attending. I was totally gonna try and get a picture of us together, blowing kisses to the camera. Alas.
But I'm never one to dwell on a bad break. I planned a field trip. So dammit, I'm GETTING a field trip post out of this. Here are some brief highlights from my fifteen-minute stay at Dulles International Airport:
Surly Northwest ticket clerks! They couldn't find my reservation when I first checked in, which of course got me all flustered. Oh, you should have seen the look on the clerk's face when he finally found my reservation and told me I was eight days early for my flight. He nearly exploded with disgusted glee. I think airline clerks rarely get to turn the tables on a customer so dramatically. "Oh you stupid man," his eyes said. "You stupid, stupid, big fat man." For the next five minutes, I verbally flailed and spasmed in front of the clerk only to be stonewalled before the question even got out of my mouth. "Well, are you SURE I can't get on the flight? DOUBLE sure?" After a while, he just went back to doing other work while I sat in shock at the counter.
Moving walkways! They're awesome! I like to lay down on them and pretend I'm John McClain shooting at a terrorist. Then I leap over the siderail and pretend I'm searching for that dude from "Good Times" who turned out to be a total fucking traitor. I'LL GET YOU, MR. MCDOWELL.
Travel pillows! Are these comfy? They look like they'd be comfy for about four minutes, and pure anguish for the rest of the flight.
Middle aged men carrying rollerboard suitcases! "I think I know why you're depressed, if I may offer an observation. I have a hunch you're the new sales rep and your customer isn't exactly knocked out by the idea of a young lady, even one as stunning as you, handling the account. Am I close? Hi, I'm Andy."
Parking garages! Daily parking at Dulles is $17 a day. At BWI? $10. YOU CAN SUCK BWI'S HAIRY NUTSACK, DULLES.
Ticket counters for airlines you'll never fly! I loved the one very nicely dressed desk clerk over at Ethiopian Airways. She probably needs to stand still for seven hours a day, then have a heart attack when all 400 people check in at the same time for the one flight they send out each day.
Smarte Cartes! Why the extra E, Smarte Carte? It just looks retarded. I used to find stray carts at the airport when I was a kid and return them for the 25-cent return reward. This excited me. My childhood was not a terribly thrilling one.
Planes! Oooh, I could totally fly on one of those eight days from now if I wanted to!
All in all, not a bad trip. And I get to watch tonight's game without pants. Not that I was planning on wearing pants to the Metrodome anyway, but it'll still be thrilling nonetheless. I'd like to thank all the readers and friends who emailed in to offer tickets, free beer, and their hospitality, especially TJ, Weed Against Speed, Dirk, Apu, and others. And special thanks to Michael Rand for offering to be my tour guide.
As for Gawker's travel department, I blame Moe.