The Twitchy Traveler's Guide to the Assholes of Holiday Travel

My Holiday Travel advice can be summed up in 3 words: Don’t do it! Okay, fine. Be that way you stubborn little shit. Congratulations on having a family you love enough to travel at the absolute worst time of year but a family that doesn’t love you enough to understand why you’d rather visit in March. I guess you gotta do what you gotta do.

If you must travel, show up early. I say that not because of the volume of people but because of the types of people who will be flooding the airport. All the people who never fly are flying during the holidays. It’s straight up amateur hour. If it was Showtime at the Apollo, the Sandman would be exhausted from sweeping away all these busters.

Prepare yourself mentally, physically and spiritually because you will run into the following people:

Stingy Susan: Can you believe this bottle of Coca-Cola is $5? Yes I fucking can Susan, because we’re in an airport where the common laws of capitalism and decency cease to exist. Stingy Susan cannot understand why the Dunkin’ Donuts at O’Hare Airport does not accept her coupon from Utah. Stingy Susan cannot understand who would by $9.99 for a little magnet that doesn’t even light up or have little doo-dads on it. In Susan’s world, everything is a Costco. Just wait until she finds out she has to pay $65 to check her carry-on because she didn’t read the rules about flying basic economy.

Brodacious Brad: Brad only crashed for a couple hours after the Alpha’s “Sick-Mas Bash” and barely made it to the airport. Even still, Brad has the time to pregame at the airport lounge with some 9 a.m. Long Island Iced Teas. Watch Brad as he stumbles up to the gate, his puka shell necklaces rattling against each other, trying his damnedest to look anything resembling sober. Watch his look of shock when the flight attendant asks him if he’s been drinking at all this morning. But guess what? The flight attendant says Fuck It and let’s him board. It won’t be until the plane is about to head to the runway that Brad will turn on full bro mode. He’ll probably call someone a bitch, someone else a motherfucker, and then puke in the center aisle. Your plane will go back to the gate, it will be emptied so they can clean it, and two hours later you’ll finally take off.  Your only consolation will be watching Brad being dragged away by airport security while he bellows, “DO YOU KNOW WHO MY DAD IS!?!?!?”

Captain Carry-On: Checking bags sucks. I’m such a stressed out goon that I’ll worry about whether or not they lost it the whole flight. Plus when I land, I wanna get out of that airport ASAP. Captain Carry-On feels the same way but instead of packing less, he just assumes he’ll get away with it. Captain Carry-On is the type of guy to board a Southwest flight with a C-48 boarding pass with a stuffed camping backpack and a roller bag. He will ignore the gate announcements informing everyone that the overhead bins are full. He will persevere. He will open every single, motherfucking overhead bin. Captain Carry-On will have the audacity to take bags out and try to rearrange them in a way that will make space for his roller bag. This demonstrates he has respect for neither his fellow passengers nor physics. When that plan fails he will try to jam both items under the seat in front of him. A flight attendant will see, demand he check his bag, and now you gotta wait for the baggage team to come back, your plane lost its place in the takeoff queue, and fuck Captain Carry-On.

Indignant Ingrid: Indignant Ingrid can’t understand why she is being charged for an extra bag even though it is has been stated clearly on her boarding pass, the website where she booked the flight, and on all signage throughout the airport. Indignant Ingrid will ask for a supervisor, still end up paying for the bag, and she will make everyone behind her 10-15 minutes late. If you have the misfortune of sitting next to Indignant Ingrid on your flight she will talk to you about it the whole time, only taking a break to blame Millennials for the airline switching from nuts to pretzels.

Security Steve: TSA sucks. It’s the most dreaded part of the airport experience. But really, unless you are smuggling illegal wildlife or you just remembered you have half a joint in your pocket, it isn’t that bad. Unless you’re Security fucking Steve. Security Steve cannot believe that a full-blooded American patriot like himself would need to be subjected to such scrutiny. Steve’s got liquids in his bags, metal in his pockets, and the misguided belief that surely he will not have to remove his shoes even though he’s been reminded repeatedly to do so. Security Steve will have to go through the metal detector 5 times. He will demand explanations in explicit detail as to why his butane lighter is not permissible. Security Steve will make a scene when TSA asks him to step aside so they can go through his bags because Security Steve thought there was no way they’d find his 20oz bottle of Cherry Pepsi. It’s at this point that you will be watching the fancy people gliding through Pre-Check and hate each and every one.