Getting spoiled incessantly spoils getting spoiled later.

“Are you able to perform the required task, sir?”

The responsibility weighed heavily upon my brow. Sitting in an exit row is a big deal. Seeing as though I am as big of a deal as Ron Burgundy, it only made sense I was assigned the responsibility. The woman at the ticket verifying counter selected me from the myriad of other candidates. She knew I was best able to handle the physical and emotional responsibilities of manning the exit hatch. Me. No one else. I was the only qualified flyer. The template for which all future candidates would be measured against I’m sure.

“That I am. If I were created for only one purpose, it would be that.”

“Ummm….okaaay. You may now proceed to the boarding gate, sir.”

“But of course. Please inform the passengers of the assured safety my able body will be providing during today’s flight.”

“Uhhh…sure. I’ll get on the horn and relay the message ASAP.” [cough] “Tool box” [cough]

“Get yourself a respirator for that nasty cough too. You come in contact with too many people to not take precautionary measures when it comes to spreading sickness.”

It is of little wonder that situations like this have provided the impetus for constantly washing my hands like I was OCD. Anyway, approaching the terminal I noticed a nice little reception party. I am so used to having the red carpet rolled out for me I no longer question the reason. This particular time however I wondered why, probably because it was smaller than normal. A nearby sign illuminated the reason. It read: “Frontier Airline’s inaugural flight to Louisville from Salt Lake.” Interesting. I pondered on that as I boarded the plan. Apparently I would not be the only one getting spoiled on the flight although each of the flight stewardesses’ eyes lecherously suggested the contrary. So be it.

They pulled out all the stops for my flying companions and I. Case in point; they allowed me the whole can of soda instead of the three stingy drops they splash onto ten ice cubes. A word of caution, don’t hesitate in swallowing the few precious drops of chilled liquid they usually provide. Do so and be disappointed when the delayed drinking action results in nothing but sadness. Waiting will evaporate the liquid long before you get the chance to wet your throat with it. I’ve always wondered why they ration the sodas. Do they only allot one can of each kind of soda for the whole plane? I want a thirst quenching amount, not one that arouses my thirst and does nothing to abate it.

While marinating in the gladness that came with receiving a whole can of soda, I was presented with an essential swag bag. They were given to all passengers as way of remembering the historic event.* I was so impressed with its contents that I quickly threw it in the next passing stewardess’ outstretched garbage bag without caring if the giver was watching. I’m sure the land fill will appreciate the donation.

Make no mistake the red carpet was not only rolled out for the inaugural flight. Seeing as though I would be forever remembered in the Frontier Airline’s archives and probably whispered about in the halls as the guy that would have expertly handled the exit door responsibilities should the need have arisen, they treated me like royalty on the return flight too. While flying to Denver, the control tower felt it necessary to allow the pilots to dillydally in a holding pattern for a half an hour or so because of a “major” rainstorm in Denver.

Upon arriving in Denver and surveying the skies, my eyes could only detect traces of a very minor rainstorm. I don’t know how quickly rain clouds can up and evaporate or move to other destinations but what I did know was that I was late as shit for my connecting flight. We landed precisely 5 minutes after my other flight was supposed to depart. The crew, realizing they had a bit of a celebrity they were detaining, alerted the other passengers that I would take de-boarding precedence and that they were to remain seated while I hastened to make my other plane 12 gates away. Sucks to be a peon…or so I’m told.

The connecting flight was held on the ground until I was able to board it. Many passengers were upset about sitting on the tarmac for 15 minutes. Their discomfort quickly dissipated when they discovered they were waiting for me. As we took off, I couldn’t help but wonder for a second time in a twenty minute span why there was no turbulence accompanying our flight. Zero turbulence landing. Zero turbulence taking off. Clearly substantial evidence of a “major” rainstorm barely avoided.

*My activities have been making a bunch of entries in history’s log books lately. Just a couple weeks prior I made history by attending the opening Bee’s game. We set the Bee’s record for opening game attendance. It felt nice to be such an integral piece of our great nation’s history. I don’t take my involvement lightly. Writing history by simply living life is a great responsibility and I act accordingly. It could easily be said I am living history.