McPolack rates the airlines

I had the opportunity to fly Delta, KLM (which is Dutch) and Alitalia on my European vacation. Here's what I done thought of each of 'em:

Delta My Uncle J (the craziest of Cousin B's three Uncle J's, btw and the other 2 uncle Js are my dad and an uncle from the non-Mc side of cousin B's family) was a pilot for this airline for many years. Upon retirement he was allowed to fly anyone anywhere he wanted. He flew to England but only brought three family members with him. Given how many Mcs there are he could've filled a plane but we weren't about to tempt fate into smashing a plane full of Mcs into the Atlantic.

Anyhoo, there was no special treatment for Cousin B and I on our flight, but no matter-it was a great ride. I got to sit by the window, watch the sky outside, the earth and sea below, and Alice in Wonderland, and grab Cousin B's arm in joy/terror during takeoff. The food was good, the bathrooms were clean, and the seats weren't too cramped-though I wonder how anyone sleeps in coach.

Delta gets four out of five stars.

KLM We took a commuter flight - less than 45 minutes - on this Dutch airline, between Amsterdam and Cologne. The plane was old but very well taken care of, and the stewardesses wore outfits in the loveliest shade of blue, and we were fed these delicious oaten biscuits and real orange juice. It was like flying in your grandmother's living room. I loved, loved, loved it. Five stars and two big thumbs up.

Alitalia Holy shitballs does this airline suck. Case in point: Cousin B and I arrive two hours before our flight is due to leave. We wait in a crazy line and then the attendant's computer is broken and she DISAPPEARS FOR 20 MINUTES. As this is happening a lady next to us is informed she's missed her flight-because of something Alitalia did, mind you-and she can't get on another plane until the next day. Vaffanculo!

Lucky for B and I, we make our flight, but not before an almost comical cattle drive from one counter to another to security. Where my backpack is searched. And as I am sick, sick, sick and exhausted and therefore punchy, I announce that there's a stuffed kitty in my bag and is name is Senor Gato and go ahead and look, I say. And then smartly shut my mouth.

Once Senor Gato and I and Cousin B are through security we wait with a large group of dismayed/irritated passengers in a train station of sorts. There is a train there but the doors are closed. Also there is a trashcan and that trashcan is on fire. It smells weird. As more smoke billows out the top of the can, one of the passengers voices what we all fear-that if they don't open the train doors soon we're going to end up stuck here forever because hey, it is post-9/11 and a smoldering trashcan is not to be taken lightly.

Lucky for us the train doors open and we get on the plane. No window seat this time, but whatevs. What is most irritating is how s-l-o-w-l-y the plane taxis down the runway. I mean like 45 minutes of taxiing. I don't know that you could even call it taxiing.

Finally we take off! There are no back-of-seat tv screens. The in-flight movies are crappy but I watch one with David Duchovny and Demi Moore anyway. The food is of course inedible. When the plane finally lands we have to wait wait wait wait wait some more until they open the door and let us the heck off.

Alitalia ZERO STARS!