Ever since JetBlue flight attendant Steven Slater inflated that slide and some girl quit her job by writing on a whiteboard, I've been having my own corporate revenge fantasies.
I'd start with the postal service. My local post office looks like that abandoned cabin Kevin Costner visits at the beginning of Dances With Wolves. Home delivery isn't much better: my mailman recently left a note on my front door that said, "Delivered your mail to another building. Sorry." I dream of forcing my mailman to dance with an actual wolf until he explains why I never get my New Yorker on time.
Every time I get a bill for health insurance, I fantasize about making my insurer pay me exorbitant amounts of money so that I won't withhold medical treatment when he gets sick. Just kidding! I would never play with someone's health like that.
I think it would be fun to have a slumber party with Facebook. We'll eat a lot of junk food and stay up late talking. "Wow, where did the time go!" Facebook will say with a tired smile. But I won't let it go to sleep. Instead, I'll tell boring stories about every person it has ever met. Facebook will want to stop listening but it will find itself unable to turn away. Then I'll show Facebook a thousand pictures of its ex.
I want my cable company to fall in love with me. When it can't live without my affection, I'll start disappearing for days at a time. I'll ruin special occasions like birthdays or new episodes of Mad Men. And if it ever wants to leave me, its only alternative will be the satellite company, who becomes crazy when it rains.
I'd like to feed Ticketmaster to a lion.
One day, I'll invite my cell phone company to a nice restaurant. I'll walk toward it with a plate of delicious food. Just before I get to the table, the plate will slide out of my hands. This will never stop happening. After two years, I'll let the cell phone company go to a different restaurant. But guess what? I'm the waiter at this restaurant, too. And my hands are slippery as f**k.
In my experience, airlines and most of their passengers deserve each other. My revenge fantasy is that they continue to spend thousands of unhappy hours together. Meanwhile, I'll never have to go to the airport again: I'll travel the world by riding the lion who ate Ticketmaster.
In my fantasy, lions can fly.