An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

I Love to Fly, And It Shows

In the spring of 1997 after graduating college with a degree in English and enough of a GPA to have the terribly misleading phrase “cum laude” stamped on the diploma, I used my impressive four-year education to land a job taking phone reservations for Delta Airlines.

Over the next six months I was asked the following questions by certifiably adorable members of the American public:

“Does my 15 year old son qualify as a lap child?”

“Is it a full-size plane, or one of them computer planes? Them computer planes is too small.”

“Can I fly in the cargo bay with my cat?” (To which I replied, “I don’t see why not!”)

“Is Max there?”

“Give me the cheapest first-class fare you got. What specials you runnin’ in first-class?”

“Do you know where my car is parked?”

“Can you put me back on hold? That song was so pretty.”

“Do y’all sell those cute little stewardess outfits? I need me one.”

“Four hundred dollahs?! Four hundred dollahs?! My dead husband is gonna come kick your ass, Miss Thang, I ain’t got no four hundred dollahs!”

“Let me speak to the manager of Delta Airlines.”

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Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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