Flight Of Fancy



No other experience will ever parallel the quality of a flight aboard a
commercial airline.
The ambiance of economy class provides a delightfully intimate and
claustrophobic atmosphere. The crowded seating area decorated in tasteful
tones of brown, orange and mustard yellow allows shoulder to shoulder contact
with passengers. Each seat has an individual dog-eared copy of In Flight
Magazine accompanied by a personal vomit bag with a lovely airline logo.
As we buckle ourselves into the seats while trying to decipher the squawking
over the loudspeaker, we know we are in for a real treat. The takeoff is
almost acrobatic in quality. The rapid ascent and sudden pitch of the plane is
amazing. Several overhead compartments burst open, spilling the contents on
the passengers below. Their amusement is made apparent by the many squeals
and colorful exclamations that can be heard throughout the cabin.
Just as we think we have seen it all, the flight attendants bring out the
food and beverage carts. We quickly realize that this is not only a source of
food, but also in-flight entertainment. Everyone participates in the game of
“How Many Passengers Can We Slam This Cart Into?”. The rules are quick and
easy to learn. As a passenger gets his arm rammed, the flight attendant
chirps, “Watch your elbows!” (translation: Flight attendants, 1 point -
Passengers, 0). Running over a foot counts as two points. However, passengers
can recoup the score by stealing liquor bottles off the cart, worth five
points each.
The food is of gourmet quality. The presentation is exquisite. The entree
(there is no appetizer) is served on Styrofoam, with matching spork. No knife
is needed as the unidentifiable meat is impossible to cut.
Then the movie begins. As I plug in my headphones to watch the movie, I
notice that the sound does not match the lips moving on the screen. How
entertaining! The volume will not turn up high enough to drown out the lull of
the snoring man on my left and pleasantly screaming child on my right.
The lights dim in the cabin. I can hear the soothing sound of
someone throwing up in the bathroom. My dad leans over and elbows me in the
ribs.
“Hey,” he says, “It doesn’t get any better than this, does it?”