This is a quick note I made when I was in San Francisco airport. I had intended to add it to the “War and Peace” style post that I had been writing about KLM and Air France, which I kid you not is now so long I am trying to figure out how to cut it into at least three blogs, four if you count this.
So it all starts on arriving at the airport from the BART where there is a lovely big sign saying FREE WiFi in the airport - great I thought I need some tweeting as I am starting to get withdrawal. But no it would not work. So I checked-in my luggage which some how took longer than it did for my colleague who was behind me in the queue. WTF? I then went to look at the stupid big security queue and my colleague, who’s name I am protecting as I may want to bitch about him later (or not) lets call him Simba, went for a fag or best boy or something like that. I then realised I had two nectarines, a banana and a Dr Pepa in my bag to eat and drink. O’joy. In the old days you could bring your own food and drink into airports. But now we are all afraid of exploding or burning genitals people to be allowed to do so and thus the airports slap on a fuck you if you want to drinking or eat after coming through this safety barrier tax and we are all happy about it. I went through security and then bought a glass bottle WTF!!!! In Manchester - DO NOT GET ME STARTED - I had to pay cash for my cafe Nero as their card machine was not working. That is like, welcome, we know you have been fucked already but lube up as we are not even going to take your fake money pay us NOW in pounds bitch. In Schipol I could buy a knife in the airport “duty free” it was a fucking cheese knife but still it was a knife. Only made safe by being in a clear sealed plastic bag!
Where was I? Arh yes, one possible homosexual act, one banana, one Dr Pepa and two thirds of a nectarine later Simba and I prepared to join the security queue. So I stripped off my belt, my shoes put all things metallic into my coat, took off my coat, took my rather large laptop (another blog about that has been written and will be posted, possibly never) out and with my foruth hand got two trays to put all my shit and rucksack in onto the conveyor belt.
Simba this time in front of me in the queue and quite frankly screaming I am a terrorist to anyone who had seen Die Hard walked through without a problem but no not me thanks to San Fran fucking airport for me as not only did I get searched because of making the fat security women wait whilst I got the passport out of my pocket but all the while in my head I knew I could not access the supposedly free wifi. Every time I did it wanted me to join T-mobile which we all know used to be one-2-none in the uk. So WTF. They made me stand in a special plastic box in case my genitals exploded or caught fire. I even got to wave at Simba who was walking past and the guy stealing all my stuff off the conveyor belt. Then a very nice man came said why are you in the box, the fat women said “code 4” then the man went “what?” and proceeded to pretend to check me for IEDs and some such shit.
Then I was further insulted by after a significant period of bitching and moaning about the free WiFi it let my windows touting colleague (Simba) on. Who then spent the next 45 munites of his free WiFi time mocking me by being online and sending work emails.
I left Simba’s company and went to sit by the gate where I am writing this stupid blog and am unable to upload it. It all became clear as to why San Francisco airport hates me when I remembered that it is also called SFO. No shit, I shit you not! Now the tannoy has kindly reminded me that “SFO is proud to announce that WiFi is free”………. and at this point I sort of which I could make my genitals explode or catch fire as it would relieve the torture of the whole fucking day.