the end of an affair

Getting up at 2:30am Phoenix time,flying across the country, then working a full day is sheer torture...After four interminable hours of contorting into a pretzel in an attempt not to touch the large folks on either side of you who are so rudely encroaching into your personal space, you "wake up" from a rocky plane ride feeling hungover, slimy, and let's be honest, drool-encrusted. Of course, US Airways exacerbates the ordeal by accusing its customers of stealing pillows from the first class cabin (uh hello! does it look like the scarf-covered textbook I'm using is a pillow?), guilt tripping them into paying $2.00 for a bottle of water (oh, you want the free stuff, do you? the stewardess taunts when you ask for tap), and ensuring that regardless of plane mechanics or weather conditions, you always depart at least 30 minutes late.

While there are lots of reasons why I enjoy traveling for work, I'm looking forward to the adventure that lies ahead in exploring new places in grad school. Since I'm pretty certain I'll be somewhere on the east coast, I will be fortunate that I should be able to take less painful forms of transportation...thank God.

So, US Air, it's over. Together, we've gone to places I've never been. We've flown faster and farther than I could have imagined. It took a long time for me to get my head out of the clouds and realize that you hurt me in so many ways. Physically, when you couldn't give me what I needed (typical guy! kidding...but really, couldn't you have spared even one blanket or half can of soda?). Emotionally, when you kept me waiting for hours and then canceled with no notice. Psychologically, when you wreaked havoc on my emotions by making promises you knew could never keep. Granted, I should have known better than to believe your unkept vows of on-time departures, but yet I turned a blind eye again and again. And spiritually, when you taunted me over and over, urging me to "Enjoy my flight" while I silently writhed in pain.

Let me speak frankly, US Air. It's not me- it's YOU. And so, to quote the poetic genius that is REO Speedwagon, "Although it hurts to say goodbye, it's time for me to flyyyyyyyy).

Or more likely, drive.