Trains, planes, and drunks

Today, I flew home from a good week in NYC. It was a fun trip. I'm not necessarily glad that my little sister is back, but I leave for college soon enough.

We flew home on United, the best airlines since never, and the first flight was nice. We sat in row 8 and it was roomy. Well moderately roomy, Anne felt it would be best to elbow me nonstop. Then the service Nazi yelled at me about my laptop. After this nice flight we transferred to our other plane at ORD. We then climbed a board a shit bucket. The air conditioning didn't work and it was a 13 row plane. We were in row 10. The service Nazi on our flight was most definitely inebriated. He kept mumbling and slurring words. After two people made Anne switch seats twice we finally got the plane to take off. The drunken service Nazi brought us glasses of water. Some with ice and some without. Then my mom spilled water on me and on her needlepoint. She asked him to bring us napkins and he said no. So, she gave him the death stare and he got his ass packing. Then he started talking some more and he wasn't even speaking in sentences. Do I hear a pink slip coming in the mail?