Kevin Smith, oops excuse me, “Director” Kevin Smith’s ongoing tiff with Southwest Airlines provides a veritable highlight reel of the whining, self-indulgence we hear so often from America’s growing legion of belt-buckle busters.
As we like to say in BTC Land, it is Babytalk at its very best.
Let’s review shall we? Mr. Smith buys two seats on Southwest Airlines in an obvious acknowledgement that just one standard airline seat is no match for his ample caboose. He then decides to change flights, but the new flight only has one seat available. This is where that annoying little thing called “reality” struck, making it obvious that the lucky travelers neighboring Mr. Smith’s seat would be getting up close and personal with Silent Bob’s overflow flesh. Ummm!!! And you know it will only get better in mid flight when the predictable sleep apnea-induced coma kicks in to produce a drool stream connecting his gaping pie hole with the collar of his mustard-stained shirt.
One involuntary muscle twitch and that dangling saliva rope will become a deadly mucous missile heading straight for your snack tray but hey, that’s life. Nobody’s perfect.
The part that kills me is how this whole scenario becomes Southwest’s fault, causing Mr. Smith to unleash a tirade of indignation that he should be treated in such a fashion.
Here are some highlights:
Smith said he suspected he may have been bumped by an airline employee who did not like his comic films, which include “Zach and Miri Make a Porno,” “Clerks” and the upcoming “Cop Out”.
Is this guy serious? How many airline employees would you have to survey before finding one who was familiar with this cultural trilogy of Hollywood but Hollyshouldn’t.
Smith says “I’ll never fly on Southwest again!” Can you just hear the sigh of relief coming from the 85 pound female yoga instructor who might have been the next seat-mate to Mr. Smith’s gravitational pull?
And my favorite, Smith is going to launch a “scorched earth” campaign against Southwest in protest of their inhumane treatment of flying fatties.
Listen up Sponge Bob, it sounds like the only thing being scorched is the pavement in the drive-thru lanes of your local eateries. Man up and take your medicine like you take your French fries. If you want to live like a load don’t cry when the reality of living like a load becomes an inconvenience.
Next time stick with the two seats and take it like a man. And I hope your next film goes well. At the rate you’re slaying those burritos, you’ll be paying for a whole row next year! Maybe I can catch Silent Bob Two on my next Southwest Airlines flight.