George Carlin – “Flying F***ing Sucks

“Air travel. What a beautiful idea ruined by assholes.

You’d think flying would be magical — a giant metal tube hurling through the sky at 500 miles an hour. Instead, it’s like being kidnapped, molested, robbed, and then dropped off in Hamilton.

Security Circus

First stop? Airport security. TSA. Which stands for Take Some ASS Because that’s all they do: grab your tits, pat your nuts, and pretend they’re saving America. Every time I fly, I get a free prostate exam from a guy with three teeth and a patchy beard. He whispers, ‘Sir, I’m going to touch your groin.’ Yeah? Touch it. Name it. Take it out to dinner, why don’t ya.

And those X-ray scanners? All they do is make my dick look like a cocktail sausage on the screen. The guy at the monitor isn’t looking for bombs — he’s giggling at my tiny shadow-weenie like a 12-year-old.

Boarding Bullshit

Then it’s boarding time. Boarding groups! Christ, there’s more classes than the fucking Titanic. ‘Now boarding our platinum, diamond, sapphire, double-dildo members.’ Then Group 1. Then Group 2. By the time you get to Group 9, they just say, ‘Boarding the cattle, losers, and parole violators.’

And what’s the rush? We’re all going to the same place — the middle of the fucking sky!

Seats of Pain

Then you sit down. The seats? Fuck me. These things are designed by sadists. Airplane seats make medieval torture devices look like La-Z-Boys. You got 17 inches of space, your knees are up your nostrils, and the guy next to you smells like an onion fart wrapped in gym socks.

And God forbid you get the middle seat. Middle seat’s not a seat, it’s a punishment. You’re trapped between two armrest-hogging assholes, sweating like a whore in church, and praying the guy on the aisle doesn’t have a bladder the size of a thimble.

In-Flight “Service”

Food? Ha! They don’t serve food. They serve evidence. Evidence that they fucking hate you. A ‘meal’ is a shrink-wrapped cracker, a mystery paste, and a plastic cup of soda with four molecules of liquid in it.

And you know the airlines are cheap when they give you a can of Coke and say, ‘Save some for later.’ What am I, fucking rationing on the Oregon Trail?

Safety Fairy Tales

And then, the safety briefing. ‘In the event of a water landing…’ Oh, stop! Water landing? That’s not a landing — that’s a crash into the fucking ocean.* Nobody walks away from that. ‘Your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device.’ Yeah? So can your mother’s tits. That doesn’t mean it’ll save my life.

And the oxygen masks — like those are gonna help. When the plane drops 30,000 feet in 10 seconds, you don’t need oxygen. You need a priest, a will, and a clean pair of underwear.

Turbulence Hell

Then turbulence. ‘Just a little rough air, folks.’ Rough air? Rough air is when your uncle farts at Thanksgiving. This? This is the hand of God shaking the plane like a snow globe. I’m sitting there gripping the armrest like I’m jerking off the Grim Reaper.

Bathrooms from Hell

And the bathrooms. Holy Jesus. Airplane bathrooms are broom closets with toilets. You open the door, it smells like someone microwaved a diaper. You sit down, your knees hit the door, your ass sticks to the seat, and the turbulence makes you piss like you’re writing cursive. Mile-high club? Please. The only club happening in there is hepatitis.

Landing, Sort Of

Finally — landing. But do you get off the plane? No. You sit there like prisoners waiting for parole because they can’t find a guy in an orange vest to wave the plane in. You’ve just flown across the fucking continent, but you can’t move ten feet without Larry the Ramp Rat doing his little flashlight dance.

And then — baggage claim. Oh, the circle of doom. Twenty minutes watching a rusty carousel spin with no luggage, just one sock and a dead pigeon. When your bag finally shows up, it looks like it got ass-fucked by a forklift.

The Big Finish

Airlines aren’t in the transportation business. They’re in the humiliation business. Their motto should be: ‘We fuck you in the ass and drop you in Hamilton.’*

And the best part? Tomorrow, I’ll do it all again. Because the only thing worse than flying… is driving.”