the ponz’s guide to air travel

Photo by Flip Barrientos

Two weeks ago I officially began my career in the airline industry. Working at the ticket counter, I have already come across enough people experiencing travel faux pas that I feel inspired to write this blog, covering several helpful hints and guidelines for you to be aware of before you plan your next vacation. Knowing the facts will mean you can get to the airport later free of worries, and will minimize the risk of you missing your plane.

Check and double check your itinerary, even if you booked through a travel agency. They make mistakes! You have no idea how many people come in trying to check in for flights that left two days ago. They then think that because their travel agent messed up, not them, that they should not be charged. But you are responsible for knowing your reservation! You will be charged to change your flight because it was not the airlines fault.

Know the policies and fees associated with the airline you a flying. Do they charge for a second bag? For a first? How many pounds are considered overweight? What is allowed to be in your checked/carry-on luggage? What happens if you miss your flight? These are all things you should know before you arrive at the airport. My airline charges $50 for any bags over 50 pounds and I can’t tell you how many times I hear “FIFTY DOLLARS!?!? Are you KIDDING me?!” every day. I always let people try to take things out and rearrange so they can avoid the fee, but weighing your bag before you leave in the morning can expedite the entire situation.

You are not an exception no matter what your situation is. Although you are the customer and we want you to be happy, just because you are you does not mean we will magically waive the fee. Be prepared if you know you may have to pay a little extra.

Check in online if you are able to. Then your time at the airport is so much quicker. At my airline, we have a bag drop line, so if you check in online (or at the kiosk) and already have your boarding pass, we just check your ID, scan your boarding pass, take your bag and you’re done! Quick!

The airlines do not control the weather and no matter how much you yell at your ticket agent, if ATC tells us we aren’t flying, we aren’t flying! Do you really want your plane to hit turbulence and go down in a field in Iowa? We know how frustrating it is to have a delay, we’ve flown too! But there is literally NOTHING we can do about it.

We won’t hold the plane for you, sorry. I didn’t know this before I started working, but the airline is fined for every minute that the plane is late taking off that is their fault (not due to weather or ATC, etc). If you’re late, you’re late. If the jetbridge door is closed, it’s not opening for you. If that planes takes off late because of you, that throws off flights for the entire day.

We can’t boot someone from their aisle seat just becaue you want it. Seats are first come, first serve. We get that you may need to get up to pee 6 times during the flight, but that is something you have to work out with Mr. Aisle Seat Holder. If you have a middle, you have a middle. Someone has to sit there.

That’s all I can think of right now. If I think of any more I will let you know.

The Ponz

the attack of prehistoric creatures

Photo by Planet_Janet_111

A few days ago, some friends and I ventured to Ikea to browse the selection. We all ALMOST bought mosquito nets to hang around our beds but then decided against it. Later, I decided I actually did want one, so I headed over to Bed, Bath & Beyond, where they had them at a much steeper price. But I guess these days, the gas it takes to Ikea, probably evened out the cost. ANYWAY.

So, after enlisting the help of my dad to actually get it hung up (I was puzzled by the hook and plastic anchor situation), I spent the night happily inside my bed enclosed by my new netting, feeling somewhat like Sarah in A Little Princess (while she still lived in India). Now, a little set up background, my bed is in the corner of my room, with a window immediately to the left.  I’m trying to be as close to the air conditioner as humanly possible. I practically sleep inside of it.

So here I am, innocently reading a book in bed, when I hear a buzzing sound. I think nothing of it because lady bugs tend to finagle their way into my room, much to my chagrin. So whatever. Three more times, I hear this buzzing and I’m starting to get a little suspicious because to be honest, it sounded a little bigger than a lady bug.

Just as I’m working up my nerve to investigate – WHOOSH! Out from behind the shade, mere inches from my face, flies the biggest fucking bug I have EVER seen in my life. I’m not even sure it could be classified as a bug. Thankfully, the mosquito net, or as I know like to refer to it as, “the giant death bugs of the apocalypse net”, separated the bug from my face.

It was honestly the size of a hummingbird. I am NOT exaggerating. It was GIGANTIC. I did not know they made bugs this big. And, color me puzzled because the only way this bug could have arrived in my room is by ringing the front door bell with it’s giant legs, coming in the front door, and sneaking past me into my room to hide behind the shade and surprise me later. It was horrifying and it was big.

And worst of all, it was angry.

It flew around my room for several minutes while I sat in my bed, COWERING. I didn’t know what to do. There was no way I was ever leaving the safety of my net, for fear it would land on my face and suck my soul out my nose. So it’s flying around all angry and probably a little confused, and then the world’s greatest thing happened. It flew right into the ceiling fan, which sent it careening into a wall and flying on the nightstand by my bed. It wasn’t a fatal blow, but it definitely knocked in into a momentary coma of stun.

“Now’s your chance. You have to be brave.” I knew I lacked the tools and the time to kill it. But if I could just stun it for a bit longer….I kept my eyes on it while I made my move. I slowly reached my arm outside of the safety of the net and grabbed the can of Axe Kilo that was on my nightstand, inches away from the stunned Satanist Bug. I quickly brought it, along with my precious limb, back into the net and made sure it was shut.

Then…I sprayed.

Bug Apocalypto mustered his strength and crawled out of the reach of my spray. He crawled up the side of my book case so that he was level with my head. Then he flew straight at me. Luckily, you know, the net. So, he flew menacingly around the net for awhile, before landing right behind my pillows, on that net, with the wall right behind him.

I sprayed the ENTIRE contents of the Axe Kilo can on him. He started to climb up the net but he wasn’t flying, so I knew he was losing strength. He looked woozy. Finally, he paused, and I hoped he was loosing consciousness. I got enough courage to flick him, and he fell. Oh thank god. But he definitely wasn’t dead.

So, I maneuvered a book under him, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and squished him against the wall. As hard as I could. Three times. Each time, a loud crunching noise greeted me. It was disgusting.

Anyway, somehow without touching him at all, I got him away from my general bed area and put him in an eyeglass case to show my mom the next day because I knew if I didn’t show anyone, no one would believe how big he is. But if you don’t believe me that this was a Demon Bug, you can ask my mom.

And I suggest you make a trip to Ikea or Bed Bath & Beyond before such a thing happens to you.

what-aphragm?: the mystery of female contraception.

Photo by Babaco

To preface this, I have absolutely NO experience with diaphragms. I don’t use one, I don’t know anyone that uses one…I’ve never even seen one. I don’t know what it looks like, and I don’t even really know how it works. I’ve never really had the desire to find out since condoms seem to pretty much do the trick in the sack (sorry, guys) but I feel like lately, my lack of knowledge on the female condom has been haunting me.

About a week ago, while watching a rerun of Friends. Monica was on the phone with her boyfriend (well, she thought it was her boyfriend but it was actually her mom…comical, right?) and she said, “Oh, before I forget, I left my diaphragm at your place.” To which I reply, out loud to no one in particular, “You get one diaphragm and REUSE IT?!?”

Later, while snuggling up with my current reading choice, she mentions looking for the case for her diaphragm. “IT HAS A CASE?!?!”

Somewhere along here, I may be watching Seinfeld and Elaine may mention her diaphragm. Other examples ensue. But those two instances were enough for me to want to know more. Thus began my quest for knowledge on the woman’s answer to the condom: The Diaphragm.

What better place to start than Wikipedia? The ever-so-reliable source defines the diaphragm as “a cervical barrier type of birth control. It is a soft latex or silicone dome with a spring molded into the rim. The spring creates a seal against the walls of the vagina.” This doesn’t really help me. I kind of had that idea in my head. From there, however, the article gets a lot more complicated. What I learned is that diaphragms are a pain in the ass.

Reason #1 Why A Diaphragm Is A Pain In The Ass Okay, to get your diaphragm, you first have to make a “fitting appointment” with your gynecologist because they “come in different sizes.” What happens if it’s too small? It might fall out (and might I note that Wikipedia specifies that it might fall out during intercourse OR a bowel movement. Nice.) and plus your partner can feel it. Too big, and your looking at some bruising of your puss and pressure on your urethra. Oh and every time you gain or lose 10 pounds you have to get that puppy refitted.
A birth control comparison site gives some handy tips on inserting your diaphragm: “You can try it standing with one foot on top of a chair, sitting with your knees apart, or lying down with your knees bent.” They also warn that spermicide may leak out and it tastes pretty rank, so you should clean down there with a wash cloth so if your future holds oral sex your partner won’t puke on your lady parts. Under disadvantages the site also lists, “can be messy.” Great.

Reason #2 Why A Diaphragm Is A Pain In The Ass Putting on the diaphragm sounds complicated and stupid. First you have to wash your hands, but whatever, washing hands is good anyway. Then you have to put a teaspoon of spermicide on your ‘phragm (as I have decided to call it). So whatever, you shove it in and it covers your cervix (I have trouble inserting a tampon much less a friggen ring of latex that has to hug my cervix). Well after all this, you have sex and everything is great, cool. After you take it out, you have to CLEAN it in soapy water and then put it in your little bejeweled ‘phragm case (I’m just saying, if I had a diaphragm, the case would be decorated). But wait, I’m jumping ahead of myself. Before removal, you have to leave it up your cooch for 6 to 8 hours after the sex. By this time, I would have forgotten that my diaphragm was up there. Why leads me to my next reason…

Reason #3 Why A Diaphragm Is A Pain In The Ass They can cause toxic shock syndrome, of which I am TERRIFIED. Other issues with diaphragms: their effectiveness sucks. The failure of condoms is about 2% while the failure of diaphragms is about 6%. The typical pregnancy rate among condom users is 10%-18%, while with the diaphragm it’s 10%-39%. Shitty!! And it’s no more effective than condoms in preventing STDs, except MAYBE HPV (because it’s all hugging on your cervix and protecting it). They also INCREASE the risk of urinary tract infections, yeast infections and bacterial vaginosis, which is maybe the grossest combination of words I have ever heard.

I’ve definitely answered a lot of my own questions, but the most important question still remains unanswered: why use a diaphragm instead of a condom? The ‘phragm has to be fitted, refitted, inserted, cleaned, kept track of….a condom just gets rolled on, used, thrown away, AND is more effective. I don’t get it! If you use a diaphragm, feel free to leave me a comment and let me know WHY you use one.

Moral of this post: Condoms > Diaphragms. For sure.

reeboks with the straps (with the straps.)

Photo by DJ Bass

 

Due to the fact that the stars have aligned and decided to work against me, no matter how many applications I fill out, I have an amazing ability to not be able to get a job. Because of this, I decided to join a temp agency. The beauty of this is that they have to give me a job. It’s their job to give ME a job. Amazing. So after a year of being away at school and Summer Haus-ing, I’m finally back in action as a temp. After an excruciating job of handing out fliers, and a slightly less excruciating job as a receptionist at a wine company, I have landed my current job, a week or so long stint at the Reebok Corporate Headquarters.

Architecturally this building is very aesthetically pleasing, very modern. Not only that, but Reebok being very athletically oriented, the building has many opportunities for fun and exercise: an outdoor track, a football field, a softball diamond, indoor and outdoor basketball courts, a lacrosse field, a full gym…it even has a MOAT. A MOAT! Am I working at Reebok or a mystical castle being attacked by a black knight? My first day of work, I saw a pool boy skimming the pool for bugs and trash. ALL. DAY.

I work with a group of four other females getting together the displays for Reeboks samples for what I can only assume is their 2009 or 2010 line. Basically, they get in a bunch of boxes, filled with clothing samples that the group of us check in and hang up very carefully. The second part of the day, we take the old samples from last year down, fold them and put them in boxes for a sample sale (which I would like to be told the time, date, and location of.)  It’s a pretty legit job. We can bring music and talk and do whatever the whole time.

Now in every job…there’s a weirdo. It’s inevitable. I feel the chances are higher in this case since I’ve found that, like me, most people working for this particular agency are temps by day, raging alcoholics by nights and/or weekends. Now in this particular group…there’s Mary.

Mary is the very image of everything I fear my life becoming, standing before me, staring me in my face for 8 hours a day. She wears jeans that a little too tight for her, causing her zipper to occasionally travel a few too many centimeters south. She wears cheap lavander T-shirts from Kohl’s (with something cliché like seashells or flowers or watermelons embossed on them)…TUCKED INTO HER JEANS. Jeans that I believe are flared. FLARED. She hasn’t updated her roots since 2002, so there are about 5 inches of gray roots, followed by very dry, very fake, blonde - all pulled back into a scraggly ponytail. She has a pudgy face, shielded only by a pair of ugly glasses.

You know, I can deal with ugly people who haven’t updated their style since 1982. But to top off all that, she’s ANNOYING. She asks awkward questions. Every word uttered from her mouth manages to make the rest of us completely uncomfortable. She is completely inept. I don’t understand how she has survived life with her work ethic. After 9 o’clock in the morning, she pretty much spends the rest of the day finding ways to not do any work. It’s infuriating.

Our job is VERY particular. The samples are split up into about 15 different categories, each with their own rack. There are separate hangers for men, women, kids, suits, shorts/pants/skirts, and lingerie. There are certain ways of folding things. Everything has to be facing the same way on the racks. Our boss very clearly explained the importance of all of this to us. It’s all very particular, but it’s also all VERY simple and easy. IT’S HANGING UP CLOTHES, come on.

Mary can’t seem to grasp any of this. She hangs pants on suit hangers. She hangs everything backwards. We have to fix almost everything she does – instead of helping she just creates more work. But you know what, whatever, I just fixed her stupid mistakes and rolled with the punches. I’m bad at confrontation. But then, while checking a rack of Men’s Sports Basics, I noticed some things mixed in…Women’s Lifestyle, Men’s Lifestyle, etc – things that didn’t belong. The following conversation happened:

Me: What’s going on with this rack?
Mary: Oh, those are Men’s Sports Basics.
Me: Why are all these other ones mixed in?
Mary: Oh, I figure whatever. They’re all the same.
Me: *GLARES*

Normally, I don’t care really. But I NEED money, I NEED this job. And being more or less an unsupervised job, if Mary messes up, we all mess up. This makes it all the more frustrating. But you know what; I can fix her mistakes, be a hard worker, and get a good reference. So I don’t even really let this get to me. But then…

Mary: Guys, look at this jacket.
(Here she holds up a black puffy jacket lined with hot pink.)
Mary: It’s men’s! If I brought home anything like this for my boyfriend, he would tell me to send it back!

I think my jaw hit the floor. Mary, gray roots, muffin top jeans, inability to pick up social cues Mary…HAS A BOYFRIEND?! Shocking. I can see a husband. Someone who married her when she still had her youth. But someone out there, without the bindings of years of matrimony, is WILLINGLY dating Mary. Possibly even fuc….never mind. I can’t complete that thought.

Later I stared at single self in the mirror in the bathroom and wondered how I was possibly single while Mary had a boyfriend. Later still I hugged my body pillow as I fell asleep thinking about how Mary was probably hugging a real human body. Needless to say it was nightmare inducing. But then I realized, this is a good thing. Because if Mary has a boyfriend? Well then there’s hope for all us single gals. Because there’s no way that there is someone for Mary and not someone for the rest of us. And I firmly believe this.

Meanwhile, working with Reebok makes me think of Flo Rida, which makes me think of dancing, which makes me think of drinking(which has to take place before I participate in the dancing), which makes me think, does anyone want to do anything this weekend involving drinking and possibly dancing?