Dear Jet Blue,
I hate you. You have ruined my morning/afternoon/period during the day when I do not have an alcoholic beverage handy. I was so looking forward to flying you to L.A. for the ever hellish BookExpo. You and your satellite TV were the bright part of my whole trip - except the free booze I would be getting at all the evening parties. And the room service I would be ordering every morning.
But now, now you send me an informal email declaring that due to "rising fuel costs," you will no longer be flying to LAX. Although you did nicely rebook me - to LONG BEACH. Yes, I know it's only another 20 miles away from my hotel. But those are 20 L.A. traffic hell miles. After which I will have to run over to the Convention Center to make sure our booth is in working order - since it never seems to be. And then, on Sunday, when I will no doubt be horribly hungover, overworked, and no longer functioning, I will have to sit again for 20 extra bumper-to-bumper miles to sit on a long-ass flight to get back to New York. And you didn't even have the courtesy to offer me a free beverage - or ten.
Oh, the betrayal. You better pray that my personal TV is in working condition - or, mark my words, there will be hell to pay.