A litany of complaints (but you might find it entertaining)

2 Jul

There’s one thing wrong about being too tired. Well, actually several things.

Especially when you have to get up at 5 AM after only having less than 8 hours of sleep for 7 consecutive days. The littlest things weigh you down, every bit of inefficiency becomes a personal affront. Or you get assailed by other people’s whims, such as the proclivity to wear way too much perfume.

Actually, I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about me, sitting on a flight to go home – a normally bearable 2 hour flight becomes painful.

It started with last night, when in my quest for a higher education, I had to go through an arduous process of paying my tuition. As if shelling out an amount that is equivalent to a higher middle-class annual salary in the US is not enough. Online transactions have its advantages but only if they work.

So my browser’s insistence on kicking me out of the website, or asking me repeatedly to log in even though I already did almost drove me to the wall. I can also add the fact that customer service kept sending me screenshots of every step as if it would help instead of admitting that maybe, just maybe, they have a bug in their system. Or two. Or three. I did manage to get it working for one payment but the whole process started again for the second payment. Oh, joy.

So when I woke up this morning at 5 AM finding out that it was resolved while I was sleeping, that should have made my day. It did, until I got to the airport.

Self-service check-in. Yey! But wait, I’m an hour ahead but it needs to be 1.5 hours at least even if you’re not checking any bags in. No problem, I’ll line up. Except, Filipinos check in just about every article of baggage. I mean, even a plastic bag weighing less than a kilo goes into checked in luggage. Look, I understand. I’ve been there. I also had the notion (decades ago) that lugging anything around was sort of “common.” God forbid. This is why we have check in baggage in malls.

But, check in luggage in airlines are not free anymore! So, pardon me while I shake my head. The woman at the counter asks, “No check-in luggage?” No. I said no to all your emails to prepay my luggage and the answer hasn’t changed. “No liquids? Less than 7 kilos?” I mumble under my breath. I mean, I don’t want to lie.

Seriously, though, if your crack team of inspectors at two security screenings were not alarmed with my bottled water and 3 oz. fluids, I don’t see why I should give them up at this point. Also, my 2 laptops plus personal items might be straining my shoulders but I don’t think they’re in danger of collapsing your cabin overhead bins considering it’s empty. So, I answer as non-committaly as I can withouth perjuring myself.

Finally, coffee to wake me up and hopefully clean up the dregs in my mind. Getting wifi access always makes me happy but all too soon, I have to go the waiting area dead zone. Except, they decided to board early. Perfect, does that mean my flight will be early?

Actually, no. It meant that we’ll have to wait for a bunch of nicely dressed group in their late 20s to 30s. The new yuppies of the Philippines – fancy outfits, nice electronics, sporting an air of entitlement, and changed twice. No problem, except that seat was right next to my aisle seat. Okay, I really should not touch the subject of entitlement since I would be too harsh. After all, I was also like that at some point in my life. (But, let’s face it, I had an air of entitlement because I was entitled! Another topic for next time – how overseas foreign workers have pumped so much money into this country only to finance IPads, Iphones and I-want-it-alls).

However, the one thing that really fueled this post is this awful smell coming from the seat in front of me. I’m sure it’s an expensive perfurme  but if you can smell yourself 30 minutes after applying it, you probably put too much.

I don’t think I’m the only person who has a sensitive nose. Though, I have to admit that I rarely, if ever put perfume precisely because I sneeze at myself. But I like some fragrances so I dab it on me once every 300 days or so.

If you don’t have my affliction, I just have this as a parting shot: I don’t care if you’re wearing ambrosia from the gods and goddesses, there’s something called “too much.”

There. I feel better.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: