"It's not my fault they changed the rules."
"It's 50 bucks."
"I might want to change my shoes mid-flight."
Or maybe you've got a stash of pork rinds in there and you just know you're gonna get hungry.
So, since no one else seems willing to tell you, I guess it's my job.
Check your fucking suitcase, you ass monkey. It's not a carry on. You know how I know?
Because you CAN'T CARRY IT! If the wheels on that behemoth broke, you'd be shit outta luck.
Dear god, what has happened to us as a society? When given the choice between spending 50 bucks or becoming human cholesterol, clogging the arteries of every aisle, bathroom, and checkpoint, most of you defiantly chose the latter.
It's a sad fact that the vast majority of mouth breathers will happily cram every piece of their shit in a bag the size of a twin bed and then stand slack jawed as some poor flight attendant tells them that "No, shockingly, your 315 pound, three square foot box won't fit under your seat. You'll have to check it." This will be after you've inconvenienced every poor soul who forked over the money, and now you'll get stuck with paying for your shit-box anyway.
And yes, the airlines should have the common fucking decency to just bury the charge in the ticket price like they used to and let us all fool ourselves into thinking its for free. But let's face it, people who work for he airlines were hardly the forward thinkers of their generation, now were they? Going to work at a shitty diner in the sky was most likely never the dream of our valedictorians.
Therefore, I'm afraid we're going to have to handle this problem from the ground up.
So, while we're still here on the ground allow me to reiterate..."If your carry on bag is neither a purse nor an iPad, I'm going to punch you in the vagina and steal your neckpillow, fuckface."
