Sunday, February 13, 2011


Due to my wily ways and obsessive behavior regarding frequent flyer programs, I sometimes fly first class.
Sign of Airline Nobility: Free booze, pepper packet, and non plastic utensil.

However, it is such a facade. A total game of "which of these things is not like the others". Wide-eyed and childlike, I play with every gadget and setting, unable to sit still until a meal is served. When it is served, one of everything, thank you very much. I couldn't be more amused and pleased by warm nuts and an offer to take my coat.
It's reminiscent of how I act when I get to grocery shop in a suburban grocery store or Target after a long period of New York City grocery shopping. The aisle space! The selection! The english language!
The only downside is that sometimes you end up sitting by Jesse Ventura, but that's another story.

And while the Suze Orman lookalike next to me in 2C is reading her Wall Street Journal and politely turning down the hot towelette and requesting some ice water, I'm saying "Oh sure, why not" (was there ever any doubt?) to my third drink at 11am and chuckling out loud over the Sky Mall wares. Maybe it was that third drink that got me giggling, but c'mon...

Toilet train your possessed cat!

I don't want to know why there is a pocket there.

Just what every household needs: A fecal ficus.

Lamp or woman, lamp or woman?

I mean...REALLY?!

It all makes a two and a half hour flight...well, fly by...
I do know someone who was happy to have landed. No booze for him.
Frequent Flyer Boog

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