Diaries Of A (Slightly) Deranged Traveler

As I writing these words, I’m sitting in a small aluminum tube about 38,000 feet above the frigid waters of the Pacific—where I’m sure that if we crash I will not only die (despite what the dinky pamphlet says about water landing foolishness), but my remains will be eaten by sharks and probably squid. I guess the journey down could be enjoyable perhaps...if you could reflect on such things instead of watching your life flash before your eyes...as they say.

Lunch seems ages ago. The meal they served us poor souls was actually quite tasty despite my predetermined attitude to reject anything that can be mass-produced and shoved into this small interior, especially now that air carriers are cutting every corner they can to save money. It was some sort of bird (chicken I think, but you never can be too sure) with a nice sauce, iceberg lettuce salad, and a block of cheese with crackers. I was pleasantly surprised.

But now I’ve eaten all of my rice cakes and chocolate covered peanuts. And I can adequately say that I never want to see those two things for a long time; there’s only so much rice cake my body can be fed before I slip into a carbohydrate-induced haze of idiocy. The snack cart has long been absent...although they did serve us three rounds of beverages, ensuring a continuous queue at the three restroom stations available on board.

I opened the window shade several moments ago to view the blinding haze of white and blue that has greeted my gaze for many an hour. Every time I do this, my seatmate glares over at me as shafts of light penetrate the interior of this flying can. Other than the mean looks, he’s a pretty nice chap—exactly what you want in a seat partner: quiet, medium-body build, not smelly. If you can complete those three categories, you are, in my opinion, perfectly adequate.  

My lower back hurts. And I find myself moving my body into increasingly convoluted body positions every three minutes to try to alleviate the pain that my back and butt cheeks are now sustaining. I’ve tried to absorb myself in the movies that the flight has so graciously provided for free, but Die Hard can only distract the pain for so long. The only position I haven’t tried yet is the complete body fold with the head down on the table in an attempt to sleep. We’ll see how that one goes.

Ah! I must be going now as I see the beverage cart in the near distance, and I wouldn’t want to miss my chance for a fourth soda. 


Category: Airplanes

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