It’s that time of year again, when the sun and blue sky begin only after a sullen morning of grey, as if it’s beneath their dignity to stick their heads out from under the cloud cover until they’re sure everyone’s up and has had their Starbucks enema and can now appreciate the hard work that is required in making a day beautiful and bright. Not that I don’t love it, but waking up at 7:30 when the clouds look like death isn’t all that easy to do. Your psyche objects to the early and dull awakening, and your soul, usually the quiet one, goes on a ten minute rant about needing actual light for there to be morning, and what the heck is wrong with staying in bed anyway?
Had a really really really long day yesterday. Flying just saps you to the bone, and it’s really one of the easiest things in the world to do. But when you’re as poor as I am, you have to opt for the multi-connection method for getting from point A to point F. You’re paying less, even though you’re using more fuel to get there. And you wonder why the airlines are going broke. But it makes sense to charge more for the straight shot. No one wants to be on an airplane for eight hours when you can do it in four. But double your pleasure, and all that.
So I get stuck with back seats the entire way back from Richmond. And in a metal cylinder with over 268 people on board, deplaning takes longer than a Chernobyl apple tree takes to develop gonads. I’m sitting back there thinking there’s gotta be a better way of doing this. Maybe ejector seats for everyone in the back forty. Or you know, a second jetway. They all have multiple exits, of course, which they reiterate fifty times just in case the plane has to make “an emergency landing”, which might mean on the tarmac or four hundred meters beneath the ocean surface. Why aren’t we ever afraid of that happening? It’s not like they hide the possibility from you. “Most of the seat covers may be used as a floatation device”. That’s what they tell you, but if the plane loses an engine and you jump out with that seat cover shouting “Cowabunga!” you can count out any chance of leading a Lost-like existence on a mysterious jungle island. Stay in the plane, people.
I never understood some of the terms airlines use. What the hell is preboarding? Is that like mental preparation for being stuffed into a tiny compartment with no legroom and poor ventilation and an endless parade of tiny snacks that are supposed to make up for the lack of sleep you’re enduring? And first class is so insulting, not because it’s a class issue, but because they make no effort to hide the fact that these people paid way more money than a seat should be worth. On the video they should just have an arrow that points to the first class section and text that reads “These people aren’t really better than you, they just pay more to feel better.” I think I might respect an airline that tried that.
I made it back at about 9:40pm last night, in Burbank, which normally would be hellishly difficult to drive to from my place, but the timing was such that we just missed the last of the worst Sunday traffic. Good trip, but too fast. I was happy to get back, but wished I could have stayed a bit longer. But it is good to be back. Hope your weekend went well. More tomorrow. Thanks for your patronage.