Ah, Japan! Impaled successfully makes it to Japan without a hitch! We’re fucking stars, and nothing can go wrong!
On the anniversary of September 11th… yes, that most important date that is our friend Boomer’s Birthday… we were stymied. After getting an early start, hitting reams of traffic on the way to the airport, braving security, and getting our generally foolish selves organized and ready to go, the terrorists won again on this 9/11. They hate Impaled’s freedom. Word has it, they’re not too fond of our music either.
As boarding time came and elapsed, it became more and more apparent that our flight was having problems. Apparently there was some kind of leaky valve, akin to my ass after too much Indian food. There was a part to fix the plane in Los Angeles, but unfortunately, we were in San Jose, about 360 miles north. They were flying the part up, but there is some law where the flight crew becomes illegal after a certain period of time. I guess that’s what American Airlines gets for trying to save a buck by picking up their pilot in a pick up truck in front of Home Depot. God damn immigrant labor.
Beset by such overwhelming problems, Impaled did the one thing we knew we could accomplish best: we got drunk. Well, Raul, Sean, and I did. Jason was a good responsible boy on his computer making karaoke music for Yamaha. Once we hit Japan, I think Jason’s going to turn Japanese.
A couple of over-priced beers and shots later, I was fairly hammered. My poor friends online were faced with a drunken Ross IMing them out of boredom. Eventually, the flight was finally and irrevocably cancelled. We trudged to the main counter to find out what kind of crazy awesome dispensation American Airlines wanted to give us for our trouble. As it turns out, they didn’t want to give us shit. They did offer a hotel, but we had a place to stay at my parents in San Jose. They offered us a taxi, but my sister was already on the way to pick us up. They offered us ten dollar meal vouchers. We took those bastards.
What happened to the days when they would bump you up to first class or give you free tickets somewhere? This is pretty gay.
We went to get our baggage. It hadn’t even left the tarmac, and a brand new piece of luggage had been ripped. I don’t mean a little tear, I mean I could fold the back of the luggage down about a foot to reveal Sean’s shoes inside. This day was just getting better and better. The people in the baggage claim did give us a brand new bag, and it was slightly bigger, too. That seemed nice, until the employees said “Fuck, man, it’s our not our shit. Take what you want.”
So, our first night of our Japanese tour was spent in my parents’ house in San Jose. I suppose we could’ve gone to Japantown there, but alas, we just ate pizza and got schnockered. Raul called the airline and come to find out, they were really feisty about having fucked up. Raul eventually scored us some measly ticket vouchers that would get us in a plane, but we’d have to pay extra if we wanted it to actually land anywhere.
This morning, back at the airport, we took our meal vouchers and ate the FUCK out of some Cinnabon. Sean hates Cinnabon. Just the name, really. Every time we see one, he rails about it. See, the name is supposed to be a pun, truncating the word “cinnamon” and adding the word “bun.” But they didn’t do that. It’s not called “Cinnabun” it’s called “Cinnabon.” What the fuck is a “bon”? It’s a branding company’s folly is what it is. What a shitty name. They’re lucky they serve such fucking delicious garbage to shove down our gaping maws. Any restaurant that serves nothing but dessert is a-okay.
So NOW we’re on our way to Japan. At least, we are if this plane doesn’t crash into the water. That’s okay, we have those flotation devices. I’ve heard of so many planes landing in the water and lucky passengers inflating those boats and using their seat cushions as flotation devices to live. I’m sure glad the FAA makes sure that planes have those, as they are really a life-saving necessity. I’m sure everyone’s heard of someone who survived a plane crash over the ocean. It happens all the time. Yup… good money spent to save lives. Yes, a much wiser idea than equipping all cabin doors with locks, as Ralph Nader suggested pre-9/11.
They should save their money, serve me better food, and present a diagram of how to kiss my ass goodbye in case of emergency.
Also, someone needs to write “9/11! – The Musical.” Seriously, I think it would be a hit. It would bring down the house. It would be a towering triumph.