On The Plane

Some people love flying, and with all due respect, I'm not one of them. I could elaborate, but there are people who have described their distaste for flying with much more flowery language than I have at my command. And I imagine there are even people who actually hate the ACT of flying more than I do, but they make strong prescription drugs for those individuals. One nice thing, though, there are actually PEANUTS like in the old days. There were a lot of years when it was either tiny pretzels or wheat covered peanuts. Today there is a choice: it sounded like they said, "Some chips, peanuts, bit-off cookies, cream cheese with chives, or crackers." I assume that you can't get the chives (a vegetable!) without the cream cheese or viceversa, but what would you put it on? Crackers is a separate choice, which I don't really consider, since I'm not a fucking parrot. "Some chips" sounds kind of left-over, as does "bit off cookies," even more left-over. So peanuts-- they gave me two bags-- and they're easy to open-- so you don't have to struggle with it, peanuts flying all over. I open the bag, pour them out-- four peanuts. I open the second bag-- not much better-- five peanuts. That makes nine. Okay, I'm exaggerating a little bit-- maybe there were like 14 peanuts altogether.

Up in first class, behind a why-bother curtain that looks like one of the flight attendants is hanging her nylons to dry, do they really have it any better? I bet not really-- no smoked salmon-- probably an individually wrapped Famous Amos cookie and a "mile-high mojito." You always think the rich people have it better, but really they don't, not much. But they're not going to tell you that. They're too busy trying to convince themselves.