I didn't think it was possible but last night's NY to Cleveland flight was even worse than the last one. The 7:30 flight, I learned because I checked the status on the cab-ride over, was canceled. I immediately called and was surprised that they had another flight for me -- they said it would be leaving at 7:40.

Ten minute delay? No problem!

Yeah, like hell: when I got to the check-in kiosk it said, nope, can't issue you a boarding pass because your flight already departed. I looked at the line to get to the agent -- I'd never make it to the desk in time. I went to the monitor -- turns out the flight they put me on was originally scheduled to depart at 6, but don't worry, it had not departed -- the plane hadn't even arrived yet.

I went to the gate, gambling that they could issue a boarding pass there. Seeing the lines at TSA I made the exectuive decision to skip my usual trip to the food court downstairs to get da chimpz their customary black-and-white cookies (making them the first casualties of the night's delay nonsense).

So I waited at the check-in counter, and anyone who knows how much I hate lines will know that I was fuming. The plane arrived so the agent fled down the jetway; sometime later another surly attendant showed up and printed my boarding pass.

So far so good: I was holding a ticket and I could see the plane we would be using. We boarded at about 8, closed the door and waited. And waited. And waited. It was a packed flight and stuck as I was in a middle seat with my spine contorted and my testicles compressed I was quite close to losing my mind. Especially when they lowered the video monitors and played a special greeting from Continental's head honcho -- one that included lots of false platitudes about how great the airline is. The flight crew walked about and down the aisles telling people to sit down and put away their cellphones. "This is an active taxi-way" they said without a trace of the irony you would expect given that there was absolutely nothing active about the taxiway we sat on.

We sat on the tarmac for three hours.

Three fucking hours!

The pilot blamed it on a line of thunderstorms approaching from the west. We sat and waited and I wondered if we couldn't get the plane at least over the New Jersey, get onto Interstate 80 and drive part of the way there -- we'd probably get there sooner.

To make us all feel better about the Continental-enforced torture we were all enduring, they announced "free headphones!" so we could watch the CNN propaganda that was by then playing on the video screens. I declined, reading the rest of the NY Post, gritting my teeth, and leaning forward to ease my screaming back.

I stumbled off the plane after midnight, limped through the mostly-empty terminal and found that my horror show of an evening would be topped by a special guest appearance: sitting on the floor in the C-concourse holding forth before a small circle of hangers-on was none other than Ron Jeremy. I shook my head and walked disgustedly to the parking lot, hoping I would not be charged for the extra day.