bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY

Spirit air, or Don’t

February 23rd, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

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My flight back to LA was cancelled which likes to happen when you feel like all is well / life is good, as if your mellow and positivity summoned your own misfortune. Which is the opposite of the Secret. Hmm. To later discuss.

With helps from my pops I bought myself a whole new ticket on spirit air, and hear I sit, five hours later, totally remembering that OH YEAH SPIRIT AIR IS TOTALLY THE WORST AND NOT ONLY DO THEY NOT FLY YOU, THEY TAKE ALL YOUR MONEY AND ESSENTIALLY MAKE PEE ON ALL YOUR HOPES j AND DREAMS BECAUSE THERE IS MAYBE MAINTENANCE BUT WHEN YOU LOOK OUT THE WINDOW THERE IS A SMALL MAN WITH A FLASHLIGHT NEXT TO THE PLANE BUT NOT EVEN LOOKING AT IT.

And so, mutiny:

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People are in tears. Mad moms in tank tops are shouting about baby formula and social media. Dads pace and huff and some dude from Colorado makes a hashtag. Then suddenly, this little guy in a wheelchair rolls up, parting the pissed crowd. To the poor people behind the counter fighting back their own tears: . I know it’s not your fault. Rolls away. Pause. Everyone feels like a dick. Just for a minute. Then it resumes, some apologizing, some shouting, me watching, all of us holding back tears.

Either this is a sad / fascinating / revelatory study of human nature or I’m high off my own mellow or the fumes from my trash can pillow or all or both.

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