Come Along For the Ride
Today, I flew home to Detroit from Orlando. I've flown more than 99.999999 percent of people on the planet. I actually made that up, but I bet it's pretty close to being true. Due to all this immense travel, all of which was for pro wrestling, I've received a certain level of status with Delta Airlines: the coveted Platinum Medallion Member, ooooooooooh.
Basically, I get upgraded to first class on every Delta flight I'm on. I can also upgrade other people I'm traveling with, and hangout in the lounge between flights. It's pretty sweet. I figure, it evens out considering how much business I've created for them and the fact that I've had to spend numerous flights to Japan next to stinky people. Smells don't bother me that much, and I'm mentally strong enough to kind of ignore such nuances, however, when the flight is 13 hours and you're trapped in the window seat next to someone with body odor, it's pretty frustrating. I mean, what do you do? Complain? Odds are they don't have deodorant with them, even though after one long flight to Tokyo, I realized I need to carry toiletries with me at all times. That's neither here nor there.
Much like the new immigration law, I am also a victim of stereotypes. I don't like shorts really. So what I do is cut off Dickies work pants into longer shorts or capris. It's durable, if not a bit warm, and to put it bluntly, economic. I wear Dickies a lot in the winter and fall because they're invincible, so why not turn them into shorts once a year? Or two?