December 20, 2003

Rain, Pain, Disdain

I had possibly one of the most miserable flights home yesterday that I could have ever had in my life. Flying home from Berkeley has always been a shitty experience, ever since my first year, but this trip broke all records. It was so bad, I almost started laughing and crying all at the same time on numerous occasions!

The day started out very normally: I woke up, finished checking all the rooms on my floors and then grabbed lunch with Anurag, Lizzy, and Lauren. By the time we were done, it had already began to drizzle. A bit annoying, since I had to fly out today, but it wasn't that bad. But when I got home, I looked out the window and noticed that the weather had suddenly changed. It wasn't drizzling anymore. It was raining. Big, fat, wet drops of rain, coming in sideways, that makes you extra wet and extra miserable. Awesome! Time to walk to BART with three weeks of luggage and twenty pounds of electronic shit I can't leave home without. As soon as I walked out of Unit 3, my pitiful umbrella completely collapsed, I was immediately soaked, my bags were all wet (making them extra heavy), and I stepped in a puddle the size of a small lake, making my socks wet! Shit! Wet socks are the absolute worst feeling in the world. And I had at least 8 more hours to go!

I finally made it to the BART station, got on the train, and took my seat. As soon as I was about to sit back, in comes a horde of really toolish high school kids with an older, college age woman who I assumed to be their mentor. She sat down right next to me, and all the socially inept losers surrounded us. Believe me, when I say toolish high school kids, I'm not talking your average dork. These guys were everything the stereotypes say and more. Pimples, peach fuzz, dirty, unkempt hair, thick glasses, hiked up pants, flannel shirts, runny noses, and the characteristic odor that not showering for a week will give you. Sweet! The day just got better!

So the leader of the pack, King Tool or KT for short, who was clearly infatuated with his mentor (or perhaps with the fact that she was female) starts talking in a nasal, condescending tone so as to impress her. God only knows what reason he had to be condescending about, except perhaps his knowledge of pornography. He was relating a story about how one of his parent's friend's son was always trying to fit in, an action KT probably never concerned himself with, considering the shit that was stuck in his hair! I thought about getting up and moving at this point, but the BART train was packed and I was already soaked and miserable, so I figured I'd just sit and see how lame this conversation could get.

Well, I didn't have to wait long, because the conversation soon turned to Hentai. You know, like the Japanese animation porn. You should have just seen the look on my face at that point. I would describe it as contemptuous nausea, whatever that means. The other tools were really excited when KT began describing a really hot episode he had downloaded. I was trying to ignore them and their conversation, but I was forced to listen not only because I was surrounded in the circle of toolery, but because KT was right above me and I was afraid he would drip snot on me! Ew!

So I sat there, periodically looking at KT to make sure he had wiped his nose off with his shirt sleeve, listening to ninth graders discuss their collective porn downloading experiences, and silently wondering what I ever did that was so bad as to deserve this. Well, we arrived at the climax (haha!) of the discussion, and I swear, one of the tools looked like he was going to cream his pants when KT closed with . . . and then she took off her top! I nearly lost it at that point and considered jabbed out my eyes with keys. But then I thought to myself, I would still be able to listen to them, even if I was blind. Luckily, we arrived in Oakland and I got up, pushed past the dirty little shits, and thankfully got off the train.

When I got down to the ground floor, with my three weeks of luggage and twenty pounds of electronic shit I can't leave home without, and my wet clothes, and soaked socks, the AirBART arrives, only to reveal that in fact a senior citizen convention or some shit like that just arrived in Oakland. Seriously, picture this: miserable, windy, cold rain, long lines of irate holiday travelers, and a bus full of slow, old people attempting to get off with their luggage. It was so bad that I thought there might be a stampede where the old people were just run over, but the driver kind of got in the way and prevented it. Anyway, I sat down in the bus next to this thirty-something, conservative-looking white guy dressed in business clothing, who I was hoping wouldn't be whack. Boy, was I wrong. As soon as the bus got going, he bust out a cell phone and started talking . . . like a southern RAPPER, accent and all.

I swear! I did a double take at this point. I guess what I missed the first time I looked at him was his iced-out chain barely visible through his nearly buttoned up shirt and his pinky ring that goes bling bling. Well, bling or not, it was definitely ludicrous. Or Ludacris if you will. I couldn't help listen to his conversation. My favorite part was how he assured one of his homies that fo shizzle the presentation was done and that he would holla back when he got to the LBC. What a goon! I bet he lived in Pacific Palisades. At this point, my eyes began to water. Perhaps from mirth, but probably more from the effects of the corrosive odor of the high school tools and the pungent smell of wet clothing in the bus. I could barely contain myself.

The day wasn't over yet. I hadn't even arrived at the airport yet. As soon as I did, I was selected to go through extra screening. The lady at the Jet Blue counter told it to me as if I had won a big prize on a game show or something. The one positive thing about that, however, was that I didn't have to stand in any lines at all. I just passed through the special extra screening metal detector, had my laptop checked for explosive devices, and was through in 5 seconds.

After sitting around in the terminal right in front of another dirty couple making out, I got aboard the plane, only to be in a window seat with old drunk businessmen all around me. The entire plane smelled like whiskey. Note to self: Friday evening flights are bad news. After a nauseating, turbulent flight filled with rowdy old people, I landed in the shittiest airport ever: Long Beach. Amidst the one baggage carousel and 80 million people and their 80 million bags, I finally found mine and got the hell out of there, ending yet another horrible trip home from Berkeley. I guess it can only get better from here on out!