A Letter From The Toddler In 27E
Dear Delta Customer Service,
It is I, the eighteen-month-old whose cheek you grabbed as I entered your aircraft. I write armed with scarlet crayon and napkin from my ECONOMY class seat number 27. My previous experiences with Delta haven’t exactly been pleasant, but never in my tenure have I encountered such a traumatic flying experience.
The potential plaintiff.
Your seventy-two-minute delay and aircraft repair forced me to miss my second-morning nap and my mid-afternoon trout and turnip purée. Despite my malaise and quickly moistening onesie, I remained pleasant. Then, Mother and I were informed that we were demoted from the first class to the hell of the unwashed Economy, to which I obliged. Instead of being greeted by blissful silence, a luxury seat, and a plump nipple in my mouth, I have been enslaved by the drones of your satanic engine for the last two hours. I was a fool to think that I would be able to sleep in a fresh hand-sewn diaper while listening to Beethoven’s magnum opus, “Baby Quintet Number 7 in C Major.” Thanks to the hundreds of screaming families in line for the bathroom and the never-ending TURBULENCE this dream has been stripped from my sweat-drenched asshole.
Dearest Delta, I am a patient baby, but after literally shitting myself during takeoff and then vomiting on my mother, the flight attendant, and myself, I’ve become a disgrace. And quite frankly, I’m pissed. You might think, “Oh he’s so cute,” or “he’s only got two teeth.” But with my lawyer and God as my witness, I will seek my revenge on you sick fucks! Whether it’s a pretzel stuffed inside every seatbelt or a glistening turd outside the cockpit door, you will NEVER forget my turnip and shit-stained seat, you’ll be quaking in your boots before-
But first, a nap.
-A Well-Mannered Grump
by: Hannah Meyer