With apologies to Juan Gato…

Why Congress Should Repeal the Wright Amendment, #2,409

On-airport parking at DFW has gone from craptastic-but-usable, to average-and-useful, to Holy Effin’ S—! Get Me Out of Here! in four months. The lots are always full, the lines are ¼- to ½-mile and 30 minutes long, the shuttles are unreliable, car-to-gate and gate-to-car times are measurable with a sundial, and best of all, it took five (5) human interactions to park my vehicle. Five. Humans. That doesn’t count the shuttle driver who grabs my little roller-bag so he can con me out of a buck for “luggage handling.” In order, the answers to the sub-literals questions are:

1. Yes, I know what gate I’m leaving from.
2. No, I don’t want any free bottled water.
3. I can stick my ticket into the reader by myself.
4. Leaving from Terminal A.
5. Leaving from Terminal A. (yes, again, 100 ft. from the last guy, and they’re both standing next to signs that say “TERMINAL A PARKING –>” in big red letters.

Contrast this to Love Field where I wheel in, grab my parking ticket, drive to my spot, walk to TSA (a whole ‘nother rant) in about 5 minutes. Idiocy abounds…unadulterated pull-you-hair-out idiocy — and I’m FUNDING IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LA is a Weird Place

I found this spooky carved green apple on a conveyor belt outside of the American Airlines terminal at LAX. Southern California is paradise, weather-wise, and I’d live in Manhattan Beach if I was rich as Scrooge McDuck, but seriously — yall are just crazier than hell. I think that the weather causes chemical imbalances in the natives because it’s just so perfect. Even I was ready, after only 24 hours there, to buy some Birkenstocks and complain about tobacco products and corporate greed.