Long day yestersday getting home. Thought I’d tell you about it because it sucked so much. First we catch the boat from Palm Island to Union Island at 9:30. Went great. Chris saw us off, everyone was cool. We get to Union island and now begins the whole “fill out the form” immigration/customs thing which is also okay because thats what you do when you travel between countries. We get on the two engine puddle-jumper, take off (see video) and 45 minutes later we land at Barbados. More meaningless customs and immigration forms follow and then bags are dragged between terminals as we go through security and finally reach the Delta concourse. Barbados, by the way, is an example of why I don’t usually vacation in the Caribbean. Unlike the very sweet and friendly people of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, the people of Barbados are more typical of the Caribbean…rude mother-fuckers with the perpetual constipated-colon grimace on their faces. As I’ve so often said in the past both on-the-air and off, the Caribbean is the asshole capital of the world. But I digress. Why talk about what assholes they are when you can also talk about how stupid they are? For instance, with our plane having arrived and a window of some 20 minutes for it to take off and make Atlanta where we have to connect, these dipshits decide to inspect every single passengers carry-on, saying that it is “Delta’s policy” or some such inexplicable horse dung. This is done outside and in the rain. When we finally make our tram to the plane…we stand around listening to some other jack-anus tell us which end of the plane we should board while the rain continues to come down. Now we’re late. Once we’re on the plane however the fun really begins. We remain immobile for an hour….an hour…..while Barbados staggers air traffic because, according to Delta, those simple-minded bastards don’t have radar. Again, that is according to Delta. So if you’re wrong Delta….good luck. So apparently Barbados doesn’t have radar. And I think it’s because they, like many in the Caribbean, get up so miserable and pissed-off every morning it would be alright with them if a couple of planes went down…might put a smile on their otherwise ugly-as-sin faces. With our plane finally in the air (Sorry sports fans) I can’t relax because now I have to worry about making the connecting flight to LA. We’re leaving Barbados an hour and change late so, no, I don’t enjoy the flight attendants banter and no, I don’t sleep. Just to put a little whipped cream on it, when we land in Atlanta we hear: “Folks we’re waiting for another aircraft to unload it’s passengers before we can park at the gate. Seems we were both scheduled for that one gate so we’ll wait while their passenegers de-plane and then we’ll pull in. Shouldn’t be too long.” Bullshit. It was too long. I was smelling other passengers and their gas and their fucking breath and looking at my watch and I’m thinking once I finally get off that plane I have to A) go through American customs and immigration, B) get my bags back on a belt to go get loaded on the LA-bound jet and then C) run my ass to the new gate. Which is what we did and we made it….with about 15 minutes to spare. Once on-board, I began sweating yet again because for some reason both planes were hotter than I imagine that tin box was in “Bridge on the River Kwai,” you know, the one the Japanese tortured Alec Guiness with? Then we get into the air and begin the trek home to California. We arrived around 11pm Saturday night, 2am Caribbean time…about 16 and a half hours of flying, running and sitting sprinkled liberally with bullshit. I will say this. The people at Palm Island made it worthwile and I’d go back. No where else, just there. And by the way, I haven’t been paid one thin dime to “plug” their resort. No one comp-ed me jack-shit. We loved the place that’s all and recommend you visit…if you can stand the pricks in Barbados and the possibility of another plane at the gate unloading passengers and “it shouldn’t be too long.” And, oh yeah….no radar……Hall out.
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