To the fucking idiot on the JetBlue flight back from JFK the night the Blazers beat the Clippers to close out Round 1.
You were not at the game. You were in an aisle seat watching ESPN from 28,000 feet in the fucking sky. You were on a delayed, nighttime flight that landed at 1 a.m PST, which was 4 a.m. for most of us on the plane.
There were people cozying up with their neck pillows and the captain turned off the lights. But you needed to shout and clap your hands quickly like a baby boy whenever the Blazers hit a shot or made a good stop. I know. I was psyched we got to watch the Blazers too on the plane. It was awesome.
For the first hour of the flight, before the game started, you chatted loudly, cursing a hundred F-bombs bouncing off the kids and baby's faces and all over the plane. Twelve rows away it could be clearly heard.
"That is so LIT" you repeatedly exclaimed, when your unbelievably tolerant seat mates told you something interesting about Portland. (Is anyone actually saying "that is so lit" or are you trying to start your own catch phrase?)
"Cigarettes are only six dollars a fuckin' pack," you yelled. "Portland is so LIT!"
You told your seat mates all about yourself and your brother and the condo you bought for $600K and sold for $780K and since shit got fucked up with your new living situation in NY it was time to move to Portland.
You're already a Blazer fan. Good for you. Go Blazers. But seriously...fuck you.