Witz Pickz: In-Flight Entertainment

I'm 30,000 feet in the air, somewhere over Colorado, and I've hit that point in the six hour flight where I slowly regress to age six and want to whine things like, "I'm hungry, I'm antsy, I'm BOOORED!" In other words, Witz Pickz is about to get a whole lot sassier (read: crankier).


(frustrated little Witz)

Lemme put this rhetorical out there and see what you think: WHO. THE FUCK. DOESN'T KNOW THE PLANE RULES BY NOW? It's 2010, nearly a decade since, "no liquids, 3 oz containers, and take your shoes off." Granted, I've had both the need and fortunate circumstances to fly a lot since 2001 and consider myself something of a pro. I know my carry ons fit, I have my ID and boarding pass ready, and by the time I get to the x-ray machine, I have my laptop out, my shoes off, and my belt undone-- which in any other situation will get you a great view of the inside of a cop car. STILL. Doesn't everyone know the protocol by now?



The last time I flew, I saw a guy standing in the security line, working on a Big Gulp, suddenly shout, "Wait, what?! Are you kidding me, I can't bring my drink through security?? Since when??" I wanted to tell him, "Since shut up, sir. Since shut up."

Today, I stood there, hearing my plane being boarded, while the woman in front of me pulled one bottle of liquid after another out of her bag, like some sort of clown car act. Just full bottles of shampoo, conditioner, moisturizer, perfume, hand soap, hair gel, it was hilarious and infuriating at the same time. It was almost made worth it when the security woman turned to me and said, "How the SHIT don't she know 'bout this by now? My Jesus!" well within earshot of the offender, to which I replied, "That's about what I was thinking..." and we shared a laugh, her laugh meaning, "The shit I have to deal with," and my laugh meaning, "See? I'm not a terrorist, please let me through security."



I slept for the first few hours of the flight and am now hungry, antsy, and bored. Fortunately, as I'm flying Virgin America, they serve meals on the plane, right? Kinda. My legitimate options are the NY Pastrami Sandwich or the Japanese Eggplant Sandwich. I've never had pastrami in my life, so it ain't happenin' on an airplane. The eggplant sounds good, but it also sounds like I might be running a Solo 4x4 relay to the bathroom for the remainder of the flight if anything goes awry. There is a tapas plate:

"Start with artisan brie, aged cheddar, and Swiss. Then, dip handcut zucchini, etc, etc, in our roasted tomato and herb hummus. Finish it off with sweet green grapes and dried figs."

First of all, we capitalize Swiss cheese? I didn't realize it had citizenship. I must have skipped out on the "proper vs. common cheeses" day of grammar in third grade. Secondly, I'm ok with the zucchini no matter how it's cut. And why specify? Is that the only part of the meal that's handcut? Are they just mass producing Virgin America Tapas Plates, sending logs of cheese through industrial machinery, and then there are people hand chopping zucchini?

"What's the hold up on those tapas plates? We're running way behind schedule!"
"It's the damn zucchini-- we simply can't handchop it fast enough!"

Finally, how about I eat your nine dollar tapas plate in whatever order I want? It's cheese, veggies, and fruit, not salad, steak, and chocolate mousse. You don't have to walk me through the experience, I get it.

Antsy. Not much you can do about that on a plane. When I'm particularly desperate, sometimes I'll wish I had a baby, because that's the only way it's socially acceptable to walk up and down the plane aisle, obviously lulling the kid to sleep. It's kinda the same as when I wish I smoked cigarettes, so that I could go outside with people or take a break from whatever I'm doing*-- having either one is a bad idea, but they might be nice every now and then.

Bored. I slept for a few hours, I read for a bit, and now I'm writing this. Virgin has in-flight satellite tv, but it turns out that daytime television is just as bad on a plane as it is in a living room. I could rent and watch a movie, but the only one of any interest is Sex and the City 2 so I can write about it here, but that's going to lead to, at the very least, the woman and the girl next to me seeing that I'm watching Sex and the City 2, to which my only defense is saying the words, "I'm only watching it for my blog," out loud.



As I just paused to consider what to do, it occurred to me that I'm hunched over my laptop in a cramped airplane seat, typing furiously and eating the last of the trek mix I brought with me like a squirrel that's positive there's no Winter worth saving for. I definitely look like an insane person. I suppose I'll read some more, or try sleeping, or make up some games to play. The woman behind me has been laughing her ass off and I haven't looked at her yet to try and figure out what she's watching. Given the options, it's a dead heat between Date Night and Death At a Funeral. Or maybe I'll watch House with the woman next to me on her screen and occasionally say too loudly, "That would NEVER happen in real life!" Or maybe I'll snag someone's baby, walk up the aisle, tamper with a bathroom smoke detector, and take a cigarette break. WHAT?? Abducting children and smoking on airplanes is illegal? SINCE WHEN???

So Fly,
Witz


*obviously, I'm referring to times in the past here.