To the Magical Austin Unicorn

Dear woman who cut the boarding line at the airport, I understand that, like, you've recently dyed your hair purple and bleach has seeped into your brain, but you do realize that you’re totally in boarding group C right? You know, C as in Can't get your ass out of bed in time to get your tickets? See, unlike you, I actually woke up at 5 am to, like, make sure I checked into my flight on time to get into the group that, like, you’ve pushed your self entitled ass into without warrant.

But, like, you’ve just finished your long day walking around the city telling all of your gals about the total babe you’re meeting in San Francisco and you're feet are like, totally killing you, so why not just jump to the head of the line and, like, steal the front seat? Who cares if that mother needs the extra space, because your needs are just as important as her crying 6-yearold, right? I mean, you shit gold and diamonds, right? You are, like, the magical fucking unicorn of Austin and we should totally just bow to your desires.

But, why stop there? Why not just take the pilot’s seat instead so you know exactly when you will get to see your hunk? Unicorns like you don't need frivolous things like a pilot's license; and if we crashed we would all be #blessed to die by your hand, right? Besides, it's not like the plane could even move without being anointed by your presence. I mean, you're like, royalty anyways. The secret service should be protecting you, screw the President. The Pope? He wishes he was, like, as important as you are.

You deserve a crown emblazoned with the motherfucking hope diamond, but until then, why don't you go sit at the back of the plane where you fucking belong.

Sincerely, Your pissed passenger