Dear Northwest Airlines:
Developments on my recent round trip with you from White Plains -> Detroit -> Des Moines lead me to believe that you, as an air carrier, have your collective noggin jammed firmly up your collective cornhole.
Not only have you built yourselves an entire concourse with no restrooms at DTW (unless you just haven’t finished building it yet), but you seemed to think it well within normal procedure to cancel the second leg of my return flight less than one hour before I arrived at DSM to board the first leg.
Adding insult to injury, you then automagically rescheduled me onto a flight that had ALREADY TAKEN THE FUCK OFF, apparently in order that some parallel-world self of mine might make the only remaining connection to HPN that day (leaving DTW at about the same time I was to leave DSM). If Northwest is offering Fourth Dimension service, great, but I’d at least expect a little publicity about same.
All right, you did book me into LaGuardia, and on a roomy A320 to boot. That was decent of you. But it would have been nice not have to walk six miles down the concourse, and take the neat-o tunnel of light and music whose walkways move at the speed of a reservations clerk on Xanax, AND walk six miles down the NEXT concourse, all in the course of making a 35-minute connection to my LGA flight.
Luckily, I can take my frequent flyer miles from this trip and kick them so far up your nose that—er, apply them toward my Continental OnePass account. So all is not lost.
But this will be the last business Northwest gets from me in a long, a very long, O! a very very long time.
Fuck you very much,
Beware of Doug