Typically, this much flying in one day would eat up the whole day, but since I’m flying west, I’ll still have enough time for an afternoon meeting.  Growl.

Itinerary, BOS to LAS, VIA LAX = 8 hours flight, 3 hours airport time.  I have 3 mobile devices plus a laptop, and everything is charged, including me with 3 venti blacks under my belt.

I just used 53% of my iPhone battery getting connected to the inflight wifi, which they have mistakenly branded as “GOGO.”  Cock-Fuckers!  $20 for an all day pass should be enough though to keep me in touch throughout the day.  Wait, shit, GOGO tells me that if I buy an “all day” pass with my phone (which I did), it can’t be used with other devices.  However, had I purchased it with my iPad or laptop then I could have shared the  connection like a streetwalker shares an STD.  Woulda, coulda shoulda..

Okay, I’m done arguing with the GOGO reps, and I’m at least online. And trust me, the novelty of being able to text, Tweet, and “status update” whilst flying is not lost on me. Yes, I said “whilst” and I’ll say it again if I want. I love that I’m connected and I’m sure that I should be checking work email, but I bet there’ll be time for that later. Maybe during the layover at LAX?

My flight attendant smells like an empty box of wine and her face looks like the empty bag. This is the last place she wants to be, and it’s the last place I want her to be. I need this wench to be on her toes and her eyelids are at half-staff. Who died?

For breakfast I had 6 Marloboro Lights and 3 Large Coffees (black with extra shots of espresso). I should be set ’til we’re over Denver or so. I’m travelling with “Pasta Vazoo” from work.

I’m in seat 8D on American flight 25 from BOS to LAX. I’m in the first row behind First Class which,  much like the WIFI, is turning out to be more of a tease than a benefit. I do have a little extra leg room, which I paid for last night before checking in online, but this mesh curtain taunts me as a teen-aged Thai hooker would taunt the Director of Purchasing in town for a week of “commodoties negotiations” with his finished goods vendors (in this scenario “commodities negotiations” is just code for back-door-bare-backing behind a dimly-lit Bangcok bakery.)

Not even strapped into my seat and those pigs up front are already having Mimosas and Bloody Mary’s. Curses!

Oh my God, now it looks like they’re having a little brunch up front. Fuck. My hungover sky-whore offered me tepid airplane tap water, and these cock-biscuits up front have their choice between what looks like lobster benedict and frittata florentine? Come the fuck on! Wait, good news, 4C just dropped some of his frittata. Cover me!

Who do I have to jerk off to get a glass of ice? Where are all the gay flight attendants? They would never slack like this. I miss Air Tranny.  Well, screw this, I need ice for my toilet water. What the?

Please fucking tell me you’re not! You’re not playing Candy Crush while I’m eating 4C’s spittle and schlepping my own ice.

Oh, this is not going to end well for someone.

Fuck, my battery on my “one device” is almost dead. I’ll report back  later.

Oh, and I’m sitting next to a hot chick firefighter from Canada. Yeah, guys, she’s straight, blonde, 26 and she and just asked me to be in her wedding.

Back soon,

Scotty

XO