Why Southwest can bite me

Sometimes I think I'm a funny person. Sometimes people even tell me I'm funny, which is a lot better than when they tell me I'm already showing or that I'm a lazy turd. But after our recent holiday, I'm starting to think that I'm not actually funny; it's just that life is playing a big practical joke on me. So I'm only funny by default.

Case in point: Traveling to Utah for Christmas. One would think we'd decided to rent some hand carts for our journey considering all the delays and issues we suffered. Frankly, an ox in the mire sounds better than some of the junk we had to endure. I could tell you a really, really long tale of our travel woes, but instead I will summarize the worst parts, which most of you have already heard me whine about:

* Flight gets canceled due to weather
* Flight gets rescheduled for the next day- we arrive two hours early only to wait in line for 1 hour and 45 minutes to check our baggage.
* Waiting in line involves standing in an outdoor parking garage, where the temperature is about 15 degrees.
* Waiting in line involves lugging our five bags and car seat for 1 hour and 45 minutes when I am technically on bed rest.
* We run to the gate and manage to make our flight but only one of our bags makes it with us.
* We get our luggage two days later at 2 a.m.
* I spend New Year's Eve in the ER - no biggie, but I have to reschedule our return flight so I can rest for a few days.
* Flight gets rescheduled for Friday - we arrive two hours early only to wait in line for 15 minutes.
* Flight is delayed for two hours, leaving us with four hours to kill in the SLC airport.
* We arrive in Chicago at 10:30 p.m.
* Our flight's luggage doesn't make it to a baggage carousel until 11:10 p.m.
* At 11:45, half of our flight is still waiting for the rest of their luggage.
* Southwest tells us they forgot to finish unloading the luggage - shortly thereafter, three more bags show up.
* I stand in a line until 12:30 a.m. to make a claim for the four bags of luggage that never arrive.
* We arrive home at 2 a.m.
* Our luggage comes at 7 p.m. the next day.

So there you have it - why my life is funnier than yours, and why I'm consequently funnier than you are. Actually, most of you are still funnier than me, and from what I can tell your luggage actually arrives with you. So maybe cursed is a better word.

Anyway, since I'm feeling lighthearted I decided to write Southwest a short letter, rather than go on and on with my sad tale. After all, that's what blogs are for, right?



Dear Southwest,

I hate you.

Love, Mrs. Dub

p.s. I don't like your stupid flight attendant songs either, and they definitely don't make me feel better when I have to wear the same underwear two days in a row.
p.p.s. Your napkins feel like sandpaper.