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- 1 Oreo cookie
- 1 Milky Way approx. 2 cubic centimetres in volume
- 1 box crystallised raisins measuring approx 1 x 3 x 4cm. (Ate 2, declined the rest)
- 1 small wedge processed orange cheese (Inedible. Only for those who ate Playdoh as children.)
- I weeny, weeny packet of corn chips with liberal coating of what I believe to be uranium.
- 1 cup of juice (quite palatable, to be fair.)
So it was with low expectations I awaited my gastronomic fate on this journey. I can honestly say that I have no complaints about the air fare this time, simply because there was none. Unless, of course, you cared to purchase it. Which you could do, if that way inclined, provided you had Canadian or American cash, and hadn't spent it all at the airport, knowing that the ten dollars you had left in coins was useless to you the moment you'd left the airport.
There were some jolly japes to be had, though, simply by asking for juice and coffee when the refreshments trolley came around. That's right!! I asked for both! At once!! Heh, you've got to make amusement where you can, and I located it readily in watching the contortions on the attendant's face as she processed this impertinance. (Perhaps extra helpings are docked form their pay packets.) Throw in "...and no ice, please" and the memory of her wrestling to suppress apoplexy will guarantee freedom from boredom for a good fifteen minutes.
I understand that it is the custom in some parts of the world to celebrate a safe landing with a round of relieved applause and cheering. I think this is splendid form. It would have been wholly in order once our wheels were on the ground in Chicago tonight. As the ground drew nearer the plane rolled from side to side like a trawler in a stiff Northerly...as did my stomach.
My lips clenched as if threaded with a drawstring in an effort to suppress a jubilant "WHOO HOO!!!" once we settled into a sedate taxi and my vital organs had left my throat. It was the thoughts of being whisked away for a friendly strip search and a holiday in on the Eastern tip of Cuba that ultimately kept me quiet.
*Travel tip: Think twice before spending the day before a flight with a perverse air crash enthusiast.
2 comments:
I am not perverse, thank you very much. I am morbid.
I remember watching the progress of your first flight, and noting that displayed on the map in red, there was a large storm system just south of Chicago. I figured it might be a bumpy ride onto the runway, since the wind seemed to be blowing north-to-south and you were landing west-to-east, for some reason.
Hmmm, you could make a sound argument for both, my friend.
We did indeed encounter this storm of which you speak, which gave the flight a little more spice all round. Can't comment on the orientation of the landing; the pilot deglected to discuss it with me, oddly enough.
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