Wonk'd: Delta Dawn, What's That Song Edition

This edition of Wonk'd is dedicated to yesterday's Delta Shuttle from New York to Reagan National. Which one? We're not sure there was more than one. As we understand it, this route's already high concentration of famous-for-DC personages was increased dramatically by the cancellation of several of the afternoon's flights, leaving minor celebrities and would-be powerbrokers to rage impotently into their cellphones. While we welcome further tales of airplane angst (and are particularly eager to find if anyone at all pulled a DYKWIA*), we are pleased to present an exclusive report from Wonkette's global correspondent:

Yesterday, I had the delightful experience of sitting in the cabin of the Delta Shuttle, as it lay motionless on the LaGuardia runway. In fact, we brave members of the Washington elite spent seven hours bonding, as Zeus and the Gods of weather proceeded to ground flight after flight. For all the aggravation, it was a splendid moment for Washington anthropology.

Behind me, retired Senator/grizzled District Attorney Fred Thompson sat in his black T-Shirt and cashmere jacket. Very Men’s Warehouse, if you ask me. But the Washington women on the plane whispered to each other about wanting to jump his old bones.

To his eternal credit, he handled the delay with Southern charm, politely checking with his assistant and joking with his fellow passengers. In other words, he couldn’t have behaved more differently from his crusty colleague from the Republican Conference, Warren Rudman. He kept loudly kvetching that he couldn’t hear any of the flight attendant’s announcements. After fifteen minutes on the plane, he had the good sense to scream into his phone, ordering a car to drive him down to Washington.

Other spottings: There was John O’Neill—the Vietnam veteran who has spent a lifetime stalking John Kerry on behalf of Republican presidents. I’m pleased to report that he is an ogre. His suitpants kept sliding down, exposing just enough butt crack to cause one to hurl one’s Delta Snack. Speaking of Delta Snack’s, O’Neill vacuumed down his in a disgusting feeding frenzy. Micha Sifry of the Nation spent the whole time blabbing into his cellphone and amiably complaining about how much his car service cost. It was nice to see that the left still has some of its soul.

*DYKWIA (dick-wah): Do You Know Who I Am?


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