Lost on the way to the loony bin somewhere between Los Angeles and New York, this outcast madman sat at the airport awaiting his delayed connection. The gods of traveling must have had it in for me that day. As I sat there listening to the white kid with dreadlocks and all the rasta gear one can find on the internet these days doing his best rendition of a Jamaican accent into his cellphone, I hear this awful shriek. I hear it again. And again and it is getting louder. It sounds something like "EEEAAAAIII" and gets very soprano at the end. I turn away from the wannabe rasta man from Nebraska and see one of those airport golf carts slowly going by as the driver screams "EEEAAAAIIII," apparently the siren that makes the sound of a truck in reverse is broken and this brilliant individual feels the need to improvise. In the back of this golf cart, which usually seems to transport the elderly to their connecting flights, are three obese women chatting to one another completely oblivious to what is happening. The whole airport came to a silence and time stopped as this man squealing drove by. Ed Hammerhand eventually made it on the plane and proceeded to push the flight attendant button in dire need of a beer before the plane even took off. Many buttons pushed and many $7 beers in a can (unfortunately Delta does not provide koozies, I asked) later the cart came by with food. My $15 salad had two leaves of lettuce and something that kinda looked like but definitely did not taste like chicken on top. When I told the flight attendant that this was bullshit and I wanted my moneys worth, I was told sorry. For a man on his way to the psychiatric ward this turned into a heated argument in which the other flight attendants came over and eventually I was shut up with a box of Pringles. I will not even get into the $6 movies. Traveling now has become a great American pastime equal with going to the movies and attending a sporting event, you get raped in the ass and you are expected to smile and say please and thank you in the process. This somehow doesn't seem right to me, but, ahh, I suppose that is why everyone thinks I'm the crazy one. At times I wish I could sit in my padded cell here in this loony bin and look out the window smoking cigarettes all day for the rest of my life.