I want my own damn jet.

There was a time when I enjoyed flying.

That time, however, is long past, and I now absolutely hate it, for a number of reasons.

Number one is the pain. Too many past incidents of back injury have left me uncomfortable with staying in one position for hours at a time. A cross-country trip in an airplane is agonizing. The seats are not comfortable; the fronts are too high for my short legs, and the width of the seat is too small. Hunching my shoulders in and having the circulation cut off in my legs results in a lot of pain.

Number two, the crowding. Obese America loves to be seated next to me and overflow their armrests into my personal space. We decry slaver ships where people were packed into holds, made to be still, with no room to move -- but it's okay for airlines.

The third reason would be airline assholes. They are the ones who overbook flights, treat passengers like they are an unwelcome commodity, and beat up customers' luggage. (And let's not forget the ones who open luggage and steal shit).

Fourth, passenger assholes. People with five carry-ons that push the limits of size restrictions, people who wear enough cologne or perfume to kill half the other passengers, people that decide to make the ticket counter a war zone (when they're only going to lose anyway), and people who can't respect personal space and keep bumping into me. Bumping into me is gross, and makes me very, very irritable. Too bad my mother ingrained in me at an early age that it is not acceptable to say, "Quit bumping into me, you fucking asshole pervert."

Reason number five: the uncertainty. Buy tickets, maybe you will have a seat. Have a connecting flight? Maybe you will have enough time to get from one arriving gate to the next departing gate. (I can't remember how many times I've had to sprint through O'Hare in Chicago to make sure I got on the plane that was to take me home.) Maybe you will have enough room for your carry-on, maybe you will get through the flight without catching some sick traveler's disease, maybe the person in the seat next to you won't be a nightmare.

Six. The smells and tastes. The stink of perfumes is the worst, but the smell and taste of airline "food" is atrocious, also. Airport facilities and food suppliers all use some odiferous rancid oil to cook food. It's horrid -- it all smells and tastes the same: DISGUSTING. And if it isn't that pookey oil, the offerings are saturated with sugar. No wonder the seats are all supplied with barf bags. Okay, so you decline the icky food and breeze past the sugary sodas to an alcoholic beverage ... forget it for a wine drinker. Chardonnay (oakey indigestion inducer), cabernet (the cheaper and more acid the better for the airline), or God help us, white zin -- again the sugar content of soda pop. Blech, ugh, och. Oh, well, of course you can ask for water, and then go stand in a line at the back of the plane and hope that the person in front of you knows how to use the facility without leaving a smelly mess for you to clean up when it comes your turn.

Reason number seven: $$$$$$ Air travel is like health insurance. You pay a lot, and while it may solve your problem, misery is the medium you have to wade through.

I don't want to do it.