Zodi’s Blog

Ryan Air = Time Share

It was my wife who first pointed out the similarities between Ryan Air’s business practices and the shady dealings of time share pitchmen/hostage takers. Once I begun shifting through the grainy, overexposed, somehow Dali-esqe memories I have of those flights, I knew that she was right. The similarities are obvious; get a great vacation (or at least to your vacation destination) for a ridiculously cheap price in exchange for a few hours of your time. Sure you’ll suffer a little annoyance and inconvenience, maybe have to deal with an obnoxious salesperson or two but then you’re done. –Just like with a time share.

 

I think you’ll appreciate the subtle nuances in the similarities between the two situations. I find them quietly charming.

 

Once Ryan Air begins the boarding process it’s all about people herding. They make you stand in line for an hour, narrow the lanes with those little vinyl ropes and plastic poles, make you move up fourteen feet, cull the herd by picking off a few of the lame or elderly, narrow the lanes again then move you up seven feet while glaring and swearing at you and occasionally stabbing you with an electrified cattle prod. I believe that this is done purely to assert their dominance as the alpha class and loosen your resistance to utter, soul crushing domination. They basically just make you their bitch.

Boarding procedures shown here.

 

Once you’re allowed to board you have to present your thrice shredded ticket to the First Steward who then rips it from your trembling fingers and throws it to the ground while turning his pant pocket inside out. This you must hold submissively while you are escorted to your seat and while the other attendants jeer, whistle and spit at you. From this point on you will be not be able to move about the cabin without your ‘sponsor attendant.’ I saw one man attempt to disregard this rule to take his young son to the restroom and the resulting beat down/anal gang rape, while sickening and horrifying, did serve to present a lesson. After all, rules are rules.

First Steward Bagwell. You will call him Daddy.

 

Once you’re allowed to claim your seat, you’ll enjoy a brief moment of peace during takeoff. This may lull you into a false sense of security and when you’re offered coffee you may stupidly accept. If so, the stewardess will promptly pour tar flavored battery acid in your cup/lap and then demand $2.50 with a malicious cackle. From this point on, it’s on and poppin’ like a Redenbacher with a cheap crack pipe. Every time you allow yourself to let down your guard and relax another demonic attendant will appear with the rustle of blue polyester and the smell of hair spray and spermicide, either to humiliate you with unprovoked violence or to bully you into buying one of their endless wares. 

 

They start out with the $2.50 ‘complimentary coffee’ then proceed to $5 hot dogs and burgers. Then comes the alcohol cart and this has the exact effect you’d think it would in such an unpredictable and dangerous environment. Like a fucking match in a meth lab. Then they tease any and all children with toys until the parents finally relent and buy a Chinese made, lead painted, Dora the Explorer for the price that would actually buy a Mexican child. Then they hawk perfume, cosmetics, clothing, jewelry, cigarettes that don’t smoke, cigars that won’t light and then follow that up by throwing all the leftover wine on you so they can sell you the wet wipes to clean it up.

Actual Mexican children not shown.

 

They already charge a luggage fee, a seat tax and rumor has it that they are contemplating charging for use of the restrooms and cabin oxygen, both being purely optional of course. During my last flight I was lucky enough to get in the shitter before it became a premium service and once I latched the door another sadistic stewardess popped down from the ceiling and cut lines of coke and ecstasy on the sink and fixed a rig with junk in case I was in the mood for a little recreational heroin.

Selection may vary. But not by much.

 

AND THAT’S HOW THEY FUCKING GET YOU!

 

After I’m floating in a narcotic induced utopia I always seem to devolve into frenzied consumerism, opting for both the blow job and the tied twins while paying to watch midgets beat hookers with dead salmon in the engine room and before I know it I’m spending money hand over foot… no, no, shit, that was a knee, the knee of a dead fucking midget and everything has just gone to hell and now I bought the fucking scratch off too… shit.

Midgets may be larger than they appear in catalog. Dead midget not shown.

 

 Just like a god damned time share pitch thing.

 

-In hindsight I realize that I wasn’t qualified to quantify that comparison since I’ve never actually experienced a time share meeting and only have the vaguest notion of what it would be like. I guess I just assumed that it is a drug and sex filled orgy in a maximum security prison atmosphere and where annoying, androgynous yet abusive types try to sell you hot dogs and scratch off lottery tickets plus or minus a few dead midget prostitutes.   

 

Update: I’ve been informed that time share pitch meetings usually end with more dead midget prostitutes.

Update X2: I’ve been informed that you apparently can NOT buy actual Mexican children on board.

Update X3: I’ve just been informed that while you can not ‘buy’ actual Mexican children on board you can, in fact, obtain actual Mexican children but only for the express purposes of adoption.    

April 17, 2011 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , | 38 Comments

   

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