While returning from a business trip, I had the opportunity to miss the last flight of the day out of DFW due to bad weather at my departure destination.  Arriving at the gate the same time I was to be leaving for home at another, I sprinted my fat, 50-year-old ass three concourses only to find that I had missed my flight.

I called an 800 number I was directed to by a sign at the American Airlines help counter and asked the representative what I needed to do.  The very nice lady told me that I needed to find an airline representative at one of American's 100 Dallas gates and he or she sould take care of me.

The only problem was there were no representatives at any of American's 100 Dallas gates because they had hightailed out of work after the final flights came in.

I was then mis-directed by three separate American representatives (who were leaving the airport, not offering to help out this radioactive hillbilly who was tired and cranky) resulting in my fat, 50-year-old ass, once again, running a six-minute mile to find an open gate with real people.  

There were none.

Do you, gentle reader, see a pattern?

Ultimately I was directed by another American representative to the American Ticket Counter outside,   this resulted in me passing the point of no security return and I was unable to reenter to look for any more open gates (not that there were any because those dedicated American Airline employees had hauled ass like it was on fire out of DFW).  When coming upon a man at the American counter, I was informed that the counter was closed.

The American Airlines concourse was all closed down like 7:00 PM in downtown Hackett, Arkansas on a week night.  The airport concouse in THE FIFTH BUSIEST AIRPORT IN THE UNITED STATES was empty (WTF?).  And Texas wants to know why the rest of America thinks they are a population of brown shitbirds? 

I explained my delemma to him and he told me I needed to find representatives who were still here at an open gate.

That is when I lost my mind...

I tried to impress upon this last, harried American Airline employee the hopelessness of my delemma and then had to repeat myself at a higher (and more profane) volume before he relented and helped me.

Then, I had to apologize for my rude behavior.

American Airlines was ultimately kind enough to put me up in a $10-a-night hot pillow fuck pad on the outskirts of the Dallas industrial district where the Teamster's Local was hosting a regional conference (translate that as "48 hours of fucking, fighting, and fixing flat tires"...Jimmy Hoffa, where are ye).

I stood in line to register at said fuck pad with a North Carolina cracker complaining to me that she could not go to sleep without brushing her teeth.  The only problem was she didn't have any teeth.  Ahh, the wretched refuse and huddled masses...we are one.

This morning, I was treated to another missed flight (overbooked) and another wasted three hours in that exquisite purgatory we know as the airport concourse where we waited on a airplane steward to make is arrival.  He was sweet and kind of cute, but ultimately not worth all of the waiting.

American Airlines is a whorehouse.