Archive for March, 2010

 

I don’t enjoy air travel.

 

Right now I’m on an airplane.  The fasten seat belt sign is on and the flight attendants are strapped to their jump seats with expressions plastered to their faces that suggest they know something that I don’t.  I’m not okay with that.  Why do they call them jump seats anyway?  Why aren’t they called “go down with the ship seats”?  Isn’t their some type of airline “code of honor” which demands that the crew will abandon ship only after the last remaining passenger has safely reached the ground?  If not there should be.  I’ll tell you what, give me your jump seat and in return I’ll give you my air sickness bag, my seven dollar bottle of “Stutter Homes” merlot and a copy of last month’s edition of “Sky Mall”.  That sounds more than equitable to me.

And the answer is no- I do not want to purchase the peanuts that only a year ago you were tossing to me for free.  WTF happened there?  My ticket cost almost seven hundred dollars- are you suggesting that a bag of peanuts isn’t included in that sum?  What did my $700 pay for anyway?  Did it purchase the silk ascot with paisley print that my overly attentive male flight attendant is wearing?  Did it pay for the excessive blue eye shadow that the lead flight attendant has smeared across her brow? Or did it simply get thrown into a huge vat of money earmarked for purchasing obnoxious, condescending attitudes which were then liberally distributed amongst your flight crew?

 

Why is the Captain walking past my seat- who the hell is flying the frigging airplane?  If it’s “Mr. Ascot” I want a jump seat and my damn money back.

 

The guy sitting next to me is sound asleep.  His mouth is open and he just made a spit bubble bigger than my head.  I want to shield myself with an airline blanket like an audience member at a “Gallagher” concert but I was just informed blankets now cost $11.

 

While inquiring about blankets, the flight attendant told me that they no longer provide pillows either.  It seems corporate headquarters is attempting to lighten aircraft loads to conserve fuel.  You’re friggin kidding right?  It’s a PILLOW you twit.  How much fuel could possibly be conserved by removing 7 ounces of foam from the interior of the aircraft?  If your serious about lightening aircraft loads tell the lady in front of me that the definition of “one personal item” does not include a tuba case- even if it is equipped with a purse strap.

 

The guy sitting next to me just woke up- he asked me two things:

Q- Are we there yet?

A- No Einstein we are not- thus the reason we are still 22,000 feet above the earth traveling at 700 mph.

 

Q- Why am I wet?

A- The lady sitting next to you has been licking you ever since we left Dallas she thinks you taste like an orange “Starburst”.

 

What are the flight attendants whispering to the first class passenger that makes them look back at coach and laugh?  If they keep it up I’m going straight to the first class crapper and dropping a deuce.

 

Speaking of the crapper, why does that thing have more torque than the Challenger space shuttle?  I flushed the toilet and it sucked the paper towel dispenser off the bulkhead.  Thank God I wasn’t sitting on it when I pressed the lever it would have pulled me inside out.

 

How come the minute the aircraft touches ground everyone immediately stands up and begins to mill about smartly even though it is impossible to make forward progress?  I try to remain seated but the fact is if you do you’re likely to get some ones ass or crotch thrust into your face as they reach for their overhead baggage- which likely shifted in flight and is on a collision course straight for the top of your dome.

 

The final straw was the insincere thanks the lead flight attendant gave me as I exited the aircraft.  Judging by her expression she would have been more thankful had I burst into flames and been instantly reduced to a charcoal sized briquette.  I could be wrong though, maybe it’s just the way she caked on the war paint that gives one the impression that she would rather be popping the heads off kittens than well wishing tired airline passengers.

 

Like I said, I don’t enjoy air travel.

 

Connie suggested that we make Sea Bass Annapolitan the other evening and I foolishly agreed.

Not to say that the dish wasn’t delicious, because it was- but no one told me that the recipe called for “Chilean” sea bass which guessing by the price must be made from the filleted wings of angels.  When the guy behind the seafood counter told me the cost I nearly shit my pants.  At $20 (+) per pound why the hell did the pioneers rush west to pan for gold?  It would have been more financially rewarding to hunt the ever elusive “Chilean” sea bass and then peddle it to sappy middle-class idiots like me.  I did the math- it would have been more cost effective to have the butcher carve up a unicorn than slap two pounds of cold dead fish in my hand.  Yes I said a Unicorn- I know they’re mythical creatures, but the way I see it anything that cost over $20 per pound must be equally as rare.

When he placed the fish in my hand I mentally calculated the financial burden that I would incur if I followed through with the purchase.  After significant deliberation I decided “yes” the fish is worth it- even if it does mean that the boys will have to attend community college in lieu of an accredited university.

That was before I priced the Maryland Lump Blue Crab meat that gets ever so delicately drizzled over the top of the Chilean Sea Bass- $36 per pound- GOOD GOD, are you friggin kidding me!  I almost threw up.  I actually had to use my home equity line of credit to get out of the fish market.

But I followed through.  I made the purchase and Connie and I cooked the friggin fish.  I was almost past the nausea which routinely accompanies a poor financial decision when Cayden provided this profound observation ”fish sticks taste better”.

I hate when he’s right?