Allegiant Air: Greyhound Airbus of the Skies
So I recently had the misfortune to travel back home for a family reunion that consisted mostly of Schlitz-fueled recriminations and a lot of emphatic finger pointing, and in punishing myself with a weekend trip down my childhood PTSD memories, I had occasion to fly on Allegiant Airlines.
For those of you who may not be familiar with Allegiant Air, just imagine if Kmart could fly.
Simply put, Allegiant Air is to flying what FlavorAid is to Kool-Aid, or what John Travolta is to heterosexuality, or what Rachel Dolezal is to Wesley Snipes—essentially just a watered-down knockoff of the real thing.
This is because flying on Allegiant Air is equivalent to flying inside of a Campbell’s soup can filled with half-spent urinal cakes, which is only slightly less offensive than the odor wafting off of the webbed-footed Trump supporter whom you’ll have to sit next to for the duration of your flight from LAX to San Francisco with layovers in Phoenix and Atlanta and who hasn’t seen a decent shower since at least Kim Kardashian lost her hymen, which places it well within president Bill Clinton’s first term.
And Allegiant is not exactly the safest airline. I looked it up today and Allegiant is actually considered less safe than Southwest Airlines. That is a pretty significant achievement because being deemed less safe than Southwest is sort of like Paula Deen telling you that your joke is a little too racist.
Having recently flown on Allegiant, I would guess that Allegiant’s poor safety record probably has something to do with the fact that their planes are piloted by two functioning alcoholics who earned their pilot’s licenses after a rigorous two-week online program sponsored by Trump University, making flying with Allegiant only slightly safer than asking Jared Fogle to babysit your kids.
I say that because our landing at LAX was similar in many ways to sharing an elevator with Ray Rice, and I’m pretty sure that the woman sitting in the aisle seat across from me miscarried during touchdown, which is probably for the best considering that I saw her washing down a Slim Jim with Sunny Delight earlier in the flight, and so while tragic for her, I think we can chalk this up to a collective win on the part of humanity’s future.
Oh, and one last thing about Allegiant: if you should desire so much as a glass of water during your six-hour flight, you’ll have to buy it at market price from one of the flight attendants who look like they should be guarding treasure in a Tolkien novel or battling Beowulf in some Teutonic dirge.
They’re not exactly spring chickens, is all, as Allegiant apparently gets Virgin Atlantic’s flight attendant run-off. In sum, Allegiant is the airline industry’s yeasty vaginal discharge, and next time I have to travel, I’ll take my chances on Malaysian Airlines because that way at least the indignity of flying with them can be forever lost at sea along with their plane and all of my regrets.