Too much to really get into at the moment, but there were three experiences that really made this rally for me:
1. Harold Ray Live In Concert. That's one of the bands that played Saturday night. This was easily the most amazing exposure to a new band that I've had in years. They worked it HARD. They play really good soul, in kind of a sloppy, raw, but fucking raging sort of way. Their lead singer is a showman that makes James Brown look lazy. The organ player plays half the set with all four legs of the instrument off the ground, and usually above his head. The rest of the band fucking wails on their respective instruments and is amazingly tight for having only been playing together for about six months. I'm gonna do my damnedest to get them to play up here in Seattle, despite the fact that I don't know if the crowd up here deserves them or will fully comprehend and respect what they do.
2. On the Saturday ride, Paul, Cynthia, and I rode in the back of a Bajaj three-wheeler piloted by Steve Lambert. I haven't laughed and screamed so much since I was about six years old. It was a blast! We hung out the sides and screamed at scooterists, took pictures, and dodged sprinklers. We screamed bloody hell going down hills and pretended to not have any brakes. We tested the durability and heartiness of the little rickshaw and it stood up to our shenanigans well. Happy day!
3. Paul, Punk Rock Dave, Esteban, Sabre, Chrissy, Janel, Bosco, Kelli, Carolyn, Barry, Casey, Sinee, Steve, Cynthia. God damn... my California friends are awesome.
So... today's lesson in Humanity Sucks:
As the plane was about to land, the flight attendant came on and said that there were a few people in the back of the plane that needed to get off quickly. Our flight was late and these people were gonna be within about five minutes of making their connections for international flights.
Think about that for a second. Five minutes. Every second of that five minutes that ticks by gets you a lot closer to having to spend the night in a country that's foreign to you in a city that you had no intention of staying in. You've still got a fuck ass long flight ahead of you, but this five minutes could put you an extra full day away from getting home to sleep in your own bed.
The flight attendant BEGS people to please stay seated until these people get up to the front of the plane so they can get up first. She pleads. She's very nice about it and makes it very clear how important it is that these people get off the plane first.
The plane lands. Before the plane is even at the fucking gate, people are standing up and starting to go for their bags. NOT the people in the back trying to make their connections, but some other idiots a few rows behind me.
So the flight attendant comes on and politely asks them to sit down and reminds them that these people really need to get off before them anyway. My announcement would have gone something like this:
"HEY! Fuckhead! You're not even supposed to be out of your seat at this point anyway, dipshit. SIT THE FUCK DOWN. And while you're sitting there, try to remember the announcement I made 30 seconds ago about these other people. They gotta get the fuck off the plane so they can get home. There are no other chances for them tonight. What's your hurry? Gotta get home so you can catch Leno making a bunch of stupid ass jokes? Well, keep your ass in that seat for an extra twelve seconds, or everyone else on this plane is gonna kick the shit out of it for you"
Alas, this is why I don't work in public service in any form. Anyway.. she was really nice about it.
So the plane gets to the gate and the ding dings, which usually is the signal that the anarchy must commence.
The jackasses from before stay seated, but at least four other people bolt for the door. Again, they are not the international flight people. I practically vomit with rage. These four people just can't fathom that the announcement to stay in the fucking seat applied to THEM as well as all the common people. Surely the flight attendant didn't mean *I* have to wait for all these stinking foreigners to get off the plane too?? I managed to contain myself and allow these people to live based on the fact that none of them seemed to have any bags and they just bolted straight for the door (and they could, presumably, easily get out of the way of the people who had FIVE FUCKING MINUTES!).
Then, the guy who I'm gonna call king of the dipshits struck. This fucking waste of skin looks back down the aisle a few times, and then decides he's going. So he stands up and starts trying to wrestle his bag out of the overhead. Meanwhile, the people trying to make their connection get up the aisle and are now backed up behind him. He continues to wrestle with the bag. I feel my ears turn red and my eyes start to throb. I think I started to feel some kind of sympathy pains for these people because all of a sudden, I felt like it was ME standing there imagining that I was going to miss my plane by about 30 seconds because this guy just couldn't wait any longer. I mustered all of the pleasantness I had left and said, in a rather irritated tone, "Why don't you LEAVE that for a minute and let these people get OFF THE PLANE?". As he ignored me, the guy in the row in front of me, equally irritated, actually shoved the guy into his row long enough for the people to pass.
I wanted to kick this guy in the head. I wanted to push him down, step on his neck, and demand he tell me what the hell was so important in his pathetically small life that twelve or so people should have to chance getting stuck in this god-forsaken country full of assholes like him, so that he could gain twelve seconds.
I refrained. I'm getting quite socially acceptable in my old age.
Now here's where it gets really irritating.
I was in a window seat, so I had to wait until the plane was almost empty before I could get off. Quite a long time had passed between when Irritating Loser Fuck finally got out and when I did. So I step out of the Jetway[tm] into the boarding area and who do I see talking on his cell phone? That's right. He wasn't running top speed to get to his car to rush to the hospital to witness the birth of his new baby. He wasn't rushing into a burning hot dog stand to save a fourth grade class. He wasn't even rushing to the can to take a dump. He was on the fucking phone, which he could have done ON THE GOD DAMN PLANE AFTER THEY OPENED THE DOOR!
So, I took the phone, put it on vibrate, jammed it through his ear canal into his brain, and then called him seven or eight times so I could watch him have seizures.
Ok... I made that last part up, because it would have been way cooler than me just giving him a look, which is what I actually did. Wuss.
Fuck... two in the morning! I'm going to bed.