Long story short, the unspoken judgement from these total strangers grows unbearable and I ring for the very next stop. How wonderful that I get to spend the last few moments of my life dealing with this shit. My one wish: a rapid, uninterrupted levitation into a pocket of our atmosphere with little or no oxygen so I can suffocate peacefully.
I'm not suggesting I'm somehow entitled to a refund. Nor am I about to repackage all that stupid shit up and mail your idiotic balloon back at my own expense. I don't have stamps or envelopes laying around my house.
I can offer no sassy, smartass conclusion. No point. No overview of the material previously laid forth. For what it's worth, I'm left only with the desire to fold these thoughts and feelings up into ten paper airplanes and sail them out my window.