As we speak, I am sandwiched between two gentleman, our knees gently touching as we soar through the clouds. The roar of the engine and the rattling of tiny peanut packages are all I can hear. I am writing this from row 17 of a commercial airliner.Somewhere over the United States.
This is the highest blog post ever written. Probably.
Just a few minutes ago, the flight attendant was nice enough to bring around drinks. She handed me the official cup of airlines, a six ounce plastic number that they fill to the brim with ice. I feel like I should receive more than six ounces of water for the price of my ticket, but I guess that’s why I am not in charge of an airline.
It was at most twenty seconds from the time I received the drink until I had completely emptied it. Then that same flight attendant came around with two snacks: peanuts and a dry cereal bar. These are by far the two worst foods for someone who has run out of liquid refreshment. I would imagine that she walked up to her flight attendant friends and said, “That guy just drank all of his water. Watch this!” She is the epitome of pure evil.
The worst part is I know that I will eat these snacks with or without a drink. If someone gives me free food, it is just a matter of time until I am trying to swallow that cereal bar without anything to drink.
While I am over here with a major dry mouth related crisis, the gentleman to my right is asleep. The first thing he did as we pulled away was shut the window shade and put his sunglasses on. It’s almost as if he is afraid of the sunlight. Maybe he is a vampire. I knew I should have brought my garlic cloves.
To my left, the gentleman sprung for the WiFi and has been gorging himself on television programming. He has the entire World Wide Web available to him, yet he has chosen to watch Kathie Lee Gifford and Hoda Kotb gulp down wine on the Today show. I think those two may have a bit of problem. Morning shows don’t seem like they should come with a bottle of Chardonay.
Well, I did it. I ate the cereal bar. Now I’m desperately waiting for the ice from my drinks to melt so that I can once again have moisture in my mouth. I think the fact that I identified this as a problem, then proceeded to go ahead and eat the cereal bar signifies that I may have a mental illness.
When we reached the air, the seatbelt light went off and the flight attendant came over the intercom. “The seatbelt light has gone off,” she said. “You may now use the lavatory.” I realized then that flying is the only time I hear anyone use the word lavatory. It’s a very good word. I don’t know why people don’t use it more often. I may make it my new mission in life to ditch the word bathroom for lavatory. It just seems like the classiest word you can use to describe a room where people poop.
The guy in front of me just got a ginger ale. Here I am thirsting to death and he has an ice cold can of gingery refreshment. If he leaves to go to the lavatory, I will steal that drink. I don’t even care. They can send the air marshalls after me. This is a matter of life and death.
I honestly can’t imagine being a flight attendant. It seems like a job where you consistently are forced to tell me to stop doing things. “Ma’am, you will have to return to your seat. The seatbelt light is still on.” “Sir, you will have to put your phone away until we’re in the air.” “No sir, you may not stow your child away in the overhead bin. I dont’t care how little he is.” It just seems like a rough job.
Now I ate the peanuts. At this point I have to wonder what is wrong with me. Do I hate myself and am I subconciously trying to punish myself for something? I may have to just steal that ginger ale right out of the guy’s hands. We’re probably pretty close to landing, though.
No, we have 2 hours and 45 minutes left. If you don’t hear from me again, just know I thirsted to death thousands of feet above the earth.
What a way to go.