Southwest can unclench its ass cheeks, because Kevin Smith (seen here with his daughter at The Grove last month) is not punching them in the ass bone with one of his Twitter rants this time around. Kevin is aiming his frustrated hate at Virgin America, and it isn’t because they pulled a Southwest by kicking him off the plane for claiming that his chunk is a flight risk. Kevin is cursing Richard Branson’s name, because he missed his flight from JFK to LAX yesterday after a gate agent named Manny wouldn’t let him on even though: a) Kevin had first class tickets b) Kevin checked his luggage in an hour before c) Kevin showed up 10-minutes before departure d) Kevin had some kind of fancy airport concierge with him e) As far as Kevin knows, Virgin staff did not know he was the one responsible for Jersey Girl (he made sure this time).
About that fancy concierge thing… After the whole “CHUNKGATE” with Southwest, Kevin prefers to travel by bus, but sometimes he has to go by plane. Since Kevin’s got that Dogma money, he always sits at the front of the plane in first class and cringes every time a passenger walking by throws him a “Isn’t that the Too Fat To Fly dude?“. So Kevin’s friend Ben Affleck told him about this fancy concierge service that escorts you to the gate just minutes before departure so you don’t have to feel like a zoo animal in first class. A RICH AS FUCK ZOO ANIMAL that is.
But that fancy concierge service is all kinds of broke because they failed Kevin by getting him to the gate too late. Instead of biting at the concierge’s balls, Kevin blamed Virgin America in a really really long blog post. Kevin writes that boarding started at 11:15 and they got to the gate at 11:35. Virgin never called their names over the loudspeaker, so they had no way of knowing that the flight was about to close (ISN’T THAT THE FANCY CONCIERGE’S JOB TO KNOW THIS?).
After arguing with Manny and his supervisor Erwin for a while, Kevin finally decided that it was a losing battle and he put his dick back in his denim culottes. But Kevin asked if they could pull their bags off since his wife’s medication was in there. You obviously know where this is going. Kevin goes on:
But Erwin said that wasn’t possible. So did Manny. They didn’t even TRY to call someone about getting the bags off. “They can’t do that,” was all I got. Dorothy, the concierge, said in her 27 years working with all the airlines, she’d never seen anything like it.
And still, the plane sat right there at the, jetway still attached. Our bags could’ve EASILY been removed in the time that the jet remained parked at the gate (or we could’ve been permitted to board). And even though I CALMLY explained three times that my wife would need her medication based on the delay they were creating, neither Manny nor Erwin would do anything to help about the bags – or getting us on a plane we were booked on/had tickets for/were in the terminal an hour ahead of schedule to take.
Manny wouldn’t give me his last name; he said he didn’t have to. I said it was unfair, as he had my name (and home address!); he insisted two more times that he didn’t have to furnish me with his last name (Erwin did, however). The pair then looked to book us on the next flight out – which had no first class available.
It didn’t matter: at that point, I knew I’d never spend another dime on anything Virgin-related ever again (which sucks, as I’m a huge fan of your trains in England and your cross-Atlantic flight). It’s not that your airline sucks: you guys are actually a top-notch operation, about whom I literally said to my wife a mere five days ago while we were en route to the east cost “Virgin does it right, man. Such a great airline…”
You are a great airline – but the wife and I will be avoiding you like the plague from now on.
Kevin later wrote that Virgin e-mailed a million apologies, refunded the ticket and offered him a free flight.
I shouldn’t defend Virgin America since every time I fly with them I’m disappointed that they don’t serve Ecstasy tabs at the door. I mean, the cabin of their planes are always lit like an Ibiza lounge and all they play is electrojazz, so it would be courteous of them to help a bitch roll ALL THE WAY. With that being said, shouldn’t Silent Bob be directing his punches at the fancy concierge he hired to get him to the gate on time?! Shouldn’t the concierge be the one who is constantly in communication with the gate to make sure they are okay on time? Was Dorothy the concierge just sitting there playing Angry Birds on her iPhone waiting for the clock to strike 11:30 so she could walk Kevin to the gate? Hm. Something in the milk ain’t clean. I bet Dorothy’s real name is Rick Derris. Dun dun dun..etc…