Oh sweet Jesus. Sweet sandal-wearing Jesus. I’m so jet lagged I can’t even think anymore.
See, my German wife and I just returned from a 5-week trip to the States last night. Literally last night, and now we’re all kinds of messed up. Obviously the journey was long — we all know transatlantic flights are about as pleasant as a flyswatter across the nipples — but as an added bonus, KLM lost our stupid suitcases somewhere inside the Schiphol airport. And not only did they lose our suitcases, but those of every single passenger on our flight.
It was just a little Cityhopper too — not even one of those jumbo mothers we take from Portland to Amsterdam — so there couldn’t have been more than like 50 people on that bitch. And let’s assume there were two checked bags per person; how hard it is to load a hundred Samsonites full of Dutch cheese and anal beads?
Anyway, it’s been 24 hours and we still don’t know where our luggage went. I somehow managed to bust out some last-minute design work for one of my clients this morning, but god damn it was hard. I couldn’t concentrate! And my poor wife had to go back to work today too, teaching smelly teenagers not to hump light sockets. Man, this blows. And it’s not just the jet lag; it’s the uncertainty of not knowing whether my wife and I will ever get our stuff back.
KLM, you guys suck. You get exactly one Merkel Diamond for your air travel performance, and that’s only because you delivered us back to Hannover alive — you clog-wearing, cheese-eating fucks. Feel free to lick the uncharted pubic jungle that flourishes betwixt my boomstick and my diddlyhole.
I’m going to go pass out now.