Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Airline Lie

A treatise:

I contend that there should  be a sound-proof, padded tunnel underneath airline seats in which babies are stored. Toss down some applejuice and Cheerios every few hours and then shut the hatch again and save us all some aggravation for God sakes. I paid good, hard earned money to be ceremoniously crammed between an obese racist and an incontinent octogenarian with muscle spasms for half a day in a seat which-

Hold up. I was going to finish that sentence but I'm too hopping mad. New sentence. 

If you can give me a good reason why (WHY?) they even bother to build in that smarmy little half-inch seat incline capability when they know perfectly well that it only serves to make the seat a hair more bearable before the guy behind you decides that his knee and your spine need to become intimately acquainted for six hours, and why (WHY?) it is so essential they wake you up from the merciful slumber it has taken you six hours to settle into only to have you contort yourself back to the original "upright" position to give you the privilege of experiencing an odorous concerto of your fellow passengers' digestion processes as that marvelous airline dinner takes a triumphant last stand, set to the dizzying swerves of a pilot who is either too young to drink or too drunk to think missing the optimal landing angle for the first, second, third loop, losing the scheduled runway opening, running out of fuel, and then deciding we need to divert to fucking Scranton Pennsylvania... if you can tell me why all these things have come to be synonymous with air travel, then I will apologize for telling a little white lie a little while back. 

Sure, I'm not pregnant. Sure, the faintly rounded rim of my midsection has more to do with Cheese Whiz than jizz. But I don't feel bad about lying my way into business class last week with the claim that I had a bun in the oven. Nobody ever asked me whether or not it was a hamburger bun.

And, well... that's just not my fault. 

Sheepishly, (but with more leg room, blankies, and complimentary cookies than you could shake a stick at,)


  1. It's not so much a decision for the guy behind you, as it is the physics of putting a 6'+ guy into the sardine seat.

    "marvelous airline dinner"?! You must be flying a brand name flight. I flew from LAX to ATL and all we got was "gourmet pretzels" and a soda.

    The emergency exit people get business class leg space for the low risk of being trampled by crash survivors.

  2. Eek, yes, I was just on an airplane on Sunday, all the while thinking, "Damn, I hate planes." I was sitting next to some weird Southern guy who kept peeking at my iPod. ;P

  3. Haha, a little white lie never hurt anyone I suppose... most of the time. Thanks for the laughs. :)

  4. My worst flying experience was Taipei to JFK. Seventeen hours with a 6 hour lay over in Osaka. Mix in some down-home stomach parasites, a mild case of Hep B, my rows buddies -the alcoholic business man from Tokyo and the over zealous networker from Taiwan- and you have my Hell hurtling hundreds of miles and hour over the Pacific.

  5. Pregnancy bites. That makes 1 thing it is useful for.

  6. I hate riding on planes. It's just... Eww.

  7. Are you going to let it go a full month without a new post? Wow.

  8. Hannah,

    I found your blog through a comment you left on Hannah Bailey's blog (from "American Teen").

    Just want to let you know you've acquired another fan. These posts are great, and I'm sure the book will be too.