I f**king hate f**king DFW Airport!

I promise I'll write about my fun visit with my sis, brother-in-law and precious baby niece tomorrow (with pics!), but for tonight, I must bitch, er, um, I mean vent. No, I mean bitch.

So, my flight back to the STL was supposed to leave at 6:15pm, arriving in STL around 8:00pm. Well........nearly FIVE hours and TWO planes later, I'm finally home. Have I mentioned I hate DFW?

We boarded plane #1 on time, no obvious issues, everyone got settled into their respective seats and got ready for the ride. I should have been suspicious immediately because it was HOTTER THAN HELL on the plane. We're talking sweat dripping down your face hot (granted, it was also nearly 100 degrees in Dallas today, I'm sure that didn't help). As we sat there....and sat there....and sat there, the pilot finally announces that flight 1880 is apparently leaking hydraulic fluid but that they were getting a mechanic to tighten the screw-or something like that. Now, I'm no airplane mechanic person, but I'm pretty sure hydraulic fluid is important...so I decided to be patient. About a half an hour later, the pilot gets back on to announce that the screw thingy-ma-bob was tightened....but the plane was still leaking fuel. He then announced that our particular plane was now officially out of commission and that American Airlines now had to find us a new plane. We were then told to de-board. Uhm....excuse me? By this time, it's nearly the time I was supposed to ALREADY BE HOME, so needless to say, I wasn't so much a happy camper. In fact, I called my friend Mike (who was picking me up) and said "Mikey, I'm still at this f**king airport". Yes, the "F" word had become my favorite word all of a sudden.

Ok, so they finally locate another plane for us, so the entire group of us (it was a full flight) trudged down to another gate and proceeded to re-board. This is where KD begins to unravel, folks. As they called Group 2 to board (me), I got in line, handed the lady my boarding pass and she says to me "we're gonna need to measure your bag, it looks too big to be a carry on". I looked this woman dead in the eye (with probably a hateful look on my face) and said "funny because it's fit EVERY OTHER TIME I'VE FLOWN". After my outburst (and after I proved to her that my bag did, in fact, meet FAA regulation size), I proceeded to board the plane. The guy behind me, who witnessed the incident says to me "that was weird...didn't they know we just got off a plane and were just reboarding"...I agreed with him and then said "Yes, I feel like I'm past the point of being nice" and he said "me too". So....I get settled into Seat 27A on plane #2 and get ready to go. Only this plane wasn't going anywhere either. We were told some part was broken and they were trying to get it fixed (at this point, KD began unraveling a bit more.....). As we sat there, the flight attendants began handing out little cups of water (and this is where evidence of my downward spiral is nearly at it's high point)...when they got to my row and offered us a drink, I looked up and said "unless that has alcohol in it, I don't want it". Can you get kicked off a plane for being unruly? Hey, my neighbor thought it was funny. He laughed then got back to his sudoku puzzle. A few moments later, they informed us that they couldn't fix the part and that they were now in search of a replacement part. Uhm, where does one get airplane parts at 8:00 at night....on a Sunday? This, my friends, is when I finally lost my shit. Because I was pissed off, exhausted, hungry, feeling a bit under the weather and HORMONAL, I started acting like my five and a half month old niece......and I sat there and cried. Yep, sure did, tears just a 'streamin down my face. I had no shame. I didn't care if Wilford Brimley (the guy next to me) and his sudoku puzzles could see me-I was pissed off. I was also stressed because my wonderful friend Mike was picking me up and I was gonna be two hours late (unbeknownst to me, however, the timing was fine for Mikey because he was goin out clubbing afterwards anyway. Yes, that's how the gays roll on a Sunday night.).

Finally, at around 8:30pm we took off. I figured my best course of action at this time was probably to just go to sleep...unfortunately for me, I can't sleep on planes, so, consequently, it was a looooooong flight. We finally landed in STL (I've never been so excited to see my city!) a bit before 10pm and when Mikey saw me, he laughed because I'm fairly certain I looked like hell. Sitting on a plane for four f**king hours when it's NOT MOVING will do that to you.

I'm better now having vented. And exhausted. It's bed time for me and, hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day. If you're thinking of flying to Dallas any time soon, I'd suggest flying to Love Field instead. Just sayin.