U.S. Air Sucks.

I went to Sara's wedding in Rochester this weekend. It was beautiful, and she positively glowed. Mike and I visited Niagara Falls (both Canadian and U.S. sides) went on the Maid of the Mist (you simply MUST do it! if you want to get drenched with smelly Niagara river water, and not be able to see anything because of all the water misting into your eyes, and into your mouth it's a piece of Americana!)

I got diarrhea from eating a Sausage McBuiscuit at Tim Horton's (some kind of strange Bagel shop or something that was ALL OVER Ontario and Northern N.Y.) and Mike and I watched a boat go through locks in the Erie Canal.

We went to the George Eastman house and Museum, and then one of my old high school teachers and I went to the Rochester Science Museum where we got to play with the kids exhibits. All in all, it was a pretty good weekend.

Until U.S. Air. Now, my complaints aren't with the service. It was on time (for the most part) and got my bags off quickly. What I DO have a problem with is charging me fifteen bucks to check a bag (grumble) and then CHARGING ME TWO BUCKS FOR A SODA.

Are you fucking joking?! SERIOUSLY!? I'm over the fact that I don't get to eat delicious plane food anymore (I really like airplane food. Seriously. No, I really do like to eat it.) and that I have to shell out seven bucks for a dry turkey wrap, but two bucks for a goddamn can of ginger ale? They. Have. Got. To. Be. Out. Of. Their. Fucking Minds.

I'm not flying U.S. Air anymore, on principle. There's only so much nickel-and-diming I can stand before I'm all like "Fuck that noise." And U.S. Air? Fuck your noise.