Industry Leaders

So, in the world of American business, there are certainly companies I don't like. There are also companies I don't understand. And there are companies that I can't believe actually exist.
So, as I see it here is the history of the airline industry: Wright Brothers (no passengers, very short routes), Hindenburg (luxury liner, wrong gas), The Titanic (prompted people to really consider other means of transport across the Atlantic), Continental Airlines (classy style, cute flight attendant outfits, rich people traveling in their Sunday best), Spruce Goose (potentially many passengers, crazy pilot) TWA, Eastern, United (multiple carriers bring air travel to the masses, suddenly a family vacation is within reach for millions), all those airlines go broke. Southwest Airlines (happy consumers, reasonable prices, limited market), American, United, Continental, all come back in various reincarnations and mergers, (crowded planes, crappy routes, pissed off consumers, sky high prices.)
So, here we arrive at the current state of pleasure travel in the US. This industry represents one of the few in which a company may extract heaps of money from the consumer, may or may not deliver the service for which the consumer paid, blame weather, mechanics, tardy pilots, or any other reason for their failure, refuse to offer compensation for any deficiency on their part. THEN, if they actually do manage to put you on the plane (you lucky duck), offer you 16 1/2" seats behind morbidly obese women with a sweat gland issue, use a crow bar to wedge your children in seats next to you, offer you 4 1/2 ounces of carbonated sugar water, no food, pillows or other comfort amenities. Then they employ a 54 year old woman whose face is as pinched as can be, whose attitude's enormous bitterness is rivaled only by the giant shoulder pads she sports and who is supposed to make your flight more comfortable. Under no emergency circumstance is Cruella d'stewardess there going to help anyone out of the fuselage of death nor is she going to bring me a free packet of 12 pretzels in a foil baggie to help me out with a kid with an ear infection. She even has a put-out expression while going through the cabin to check that seat belts are fastened--as if she secretly hopes she misses a few and she can cull the herd out in the event of turbulence.
Then, if you are lucky enough to make it on the plane, survive Cruella d'stewardess, and arrive at your destination within 3 hours of the promised landing time, you then have a layover long enough to read War and Peace. But, don't worry, because you can purchase horrifically disgusting fast food for a mere twice the price of what you'd pay for it in the real world. Or, you could go to a bare-bones version of your favorite chain restaurant and sit down for an expensive order of chicken fingers that you can eat with a plastic spork doled out to diners who might later have an urge to hijack a plane with their stolen cutlery. But of course, no one could ever hijack a plane with the sporks they give you at the behind-security restaurants because those sporks collapse and bend the moment you stick them in applesauce. Really makes you feel like your getting a high end meal, that.
So, after a layover that is without exaggeration, longer than the two legs of flights you've purchased, you can board another jammed airplane that is running late. For whatever reason, this plane is late and the flight attendant starts berating the poor souls boarding the plane. "Please move it along. Stow your bags quickly, as you can see our departure time has come and gone, and we would like to get going."
REALLY, bitch? Really? Your botoxed lips have finally connected to a brain cell, and this is the news you deliver? We, on the other hand, lowly travellers, were cooling our jets watching (what I eventually figured out to be a rerun) of the baseball playoffs in super cozy metal chairs, sharing an armrest with some H1N1 infected stranger who thinks it's appropriate to bring her own Finding Nemo pillow with her on the airplane like a giant security blankie (I hope she collects some bed bugs) and standing around talking about how much we would like to continue to wait in the beautiful environs of Gate A21 and keep you, our beautiful flight attendant waiting a little longer. Some kind of nerve. Also, as soon as my children fall asleep, I'd really appreciate it if you could run over one's legs, and scream into the PA system about the cocktails that EVERYONE knows are for sale, and the WiFi which I am sure is not free that people can log on to. I love it when you do that because what 4 year old could really use sleep at midnight on a godforsaken tin can at 35,000 feet?
And thanks, I'll have a rum and diet since you're asking. Where the hell did I put that spork?