Thank you, Crel, for trying to cheer me up with this funny video.  However, my rage meter is climbing for a new reason on this fateful day at DIA.

Current Rage Meter is at 7 of 10

I have been here for a couple hours now.  I am patiently waiting at the gate, hoping to see a Frontier employee so that I can present them with my Standby ticket and plead with them to allow me to be first on the standby list.  After all, I’ve been here longer than anyone else.  Seems fair, right? 

Well, now that we have been here with NO SIGHT OF A FRONTIER AGENT anywhere, other standby passengers have started to arrive.  This means that as soon as a Frontier employee graces us with their presence, there is going to be a stampede of pissed off, tired, grumpy airport denizens clawing their way to the desk like a beer tent at an outdoor music festival in Death Valley.

Then there is the issue of these plastic, butt bucket seats at the gate.  My ass is throbbing like a Vietnamese whore the day after the Navy left port.  And to make matters worse, a couple of Mexican Bikers (I can’t make this shit up) that each weigh a good 250 have taken residence beside me.  Perhaps their pancakes came laced with Meth this morning, cause they can’t keep their mother fucking feet still, and this bench is wobbling enough to make me car sick.  I don’t dare move though, because my break-of-dawn arrival at this formerly deserted gate afforded me the luxury of the single fucking outlet that DIA seems to feel is necessary to make available to passengers.

ARG! – Rage Meter Approaching 8 of 10