Ah, it’s that time of the year again. The time for warm weather, bright sunshine, relaxing days on the beaches of Mexico, and fun-filled nights at their bars. I’m sure you all know what I’m talking about: Spring Break.

Where and when else can an 18-year-old get straight-up obliterated other than in Mexico on Spring Break? Only one problem. Traveling there sucks.

I write this from seat 17f of my initial flight from Detroit Metro Airport to Lauderdale, Fla. Or maybe I should say seat 17f and a half, because the Michael Moore-sized (emphasis on the ‘M(o)ore’) guy next to me is doing a good job on splintering the armrest into oblivion and effectively wedging me against the wall. But hey, at least I’ll be thinner, much like a compressed accordion, by the time this flight is done.

Thankfully, this episode of Dexter I’m watching involves chopping an inconveniently-sized killer into a more convenient size, so I am casually hinting that my friend in seat 17e and 17f simultaneously could befall the same fate if he doesn’t move over. (Note: if I am arrested for a murder of a larger gentleman anytime in the next week, please destroy this document.)

For the last few years, every flight I have taken has been either Delta or Airtrans or Southwest. But this time, we took a different airline. And this has taught me that the airline you take can determine if your plane ride is smooth, or if you resort to writing a Mouthing Off article within the first half hour.

I’m sure you can tell which of the two kinds of airlines this one is. In order to not offend any airlines, let’s just call this one… Spirit Airlines or something like that. OK? We’ll call it Spirit Airlines.

So here’s the thing about Spirit Airlines. They suck. If you follow me on Twitter, you may have already read some of my thoughts toward Spirit airlines.

1. It’s called Spirit Airlines because by the time you make it through the multiple, endless, indistinctly-separated lines, you have passed on to the spirit world.

2. It’s called Spirit Airlines because your bags have to be, like a spirit, practically weightless for the drones at the gate to accept them without charging you and extra $50. (Hintety-hint-hint – Yolanda at gate 6.)

3. It’s called Spirit Airlines because, like spirits, assistance or terminal attendants of any kind are damn near impossible to find without advanced sonar equipment. And even then, it’s all luck.

And then  — oh great. Julius Ceaser next to me is snoring. On my shoulder. Help me. Please.

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Dylan Dulberg is an Intern at The Oakland Post. He is a senior at Seaholm High School in Birmingham, Mich. and will be attending Oakland University as a journalism student.