I fly out of Buffalo, Delta. It's my preferred airline. Delta serves peanuts, pretzels, and cookies. If you fly Delta you would know that. Because they say it to every single passenger. It's a little bizarre, man. Like there will be three of you in a row, and they're like, "Peanuts, pretzels, cookies? Peanuts, pretzels, cookies? Peanuts, pretzels, cookies?"
I'm like, "You had to pass me twice to get to them. They probably heard it two rows up." Like what do they think, I'm sitting there going, "You better ask me. Don't assume I heard that shit. Don't assume I heard that shit."
It's got to be a Delta rule, man. I feel bad for the flight attendants. They must be laying in bed in their own home. The husband's like, "Good morning, baby," and she's like, "Peanuts, pretzels, cookies, peanuts, pretzels ..." He's like, "Baby, you're home! You're home! Baby, you're home."
I fly early. That's my thing. I always fly early. If there's a problem you got time to fix it. I fly so early I got to the gate once, coffee shop's not even open yet. It's just me and a guy about my age and he's in a wheelchair and we're both waiting to get coffee. Now he gets a phone call, coffee shop opens, I figure let me treat the guy, right? I come back, I give him the coffee. He thanks me, introduces himself and we shake hands.
Now no sooner do we finish shaking hands, the guy gets out of the wheelchair. Considering I just physically shook his hand, as you could imagine my first thought was, "I think I just healed this guy." I don't even know what protocol is. Do we call the Pope? What do we do? Right? Do I not wash the hand?
Then he sees the stunned look in my eye and he goes, "Oh, no, I work for the airport pushing people in the planes game. And I just got in early, you know?"
You don't sit in the wheelchair, guy. What, do you think I'm going to go, "No, even though you were in it I assumed you could walk by the way you were wiggling there." Of course then my next thought was, "This guy owes me $2.50 for the coffee."
But those airline snacks, right? I get like 5:00 a.m. flight, and you just hear all these little styrofoam bags, everyone trying to open up the pretzels. 5:00 a.m., right? Now if you were in your own kitchen at 5:00 a.m. and you opened up a cabinet and saw the pretzels, you wouldn't eat them. What are we doing?
I had a flight once, 5:30 in the morning, flight attendant comes on, tells us they're out of pretzels, they're not going to be serving pretzels. And the guy sitting right next to me mumbles to himself out loud, he goes, "God dammit." Like what, does this guy fly Delta just for the pretzels? Like they're not Auntie Anne's, guy.
Do you ever see people put the airline snacks in their bag for later? Oh my ... how white trash is that? How does that even play out, man? Like are you on your couch at home and your wife's like, "I'd love a snack," and you're like, "Well get the Delta pretzels, baby."
