Monday, November 08, 2010

Plane Musings

United Airlines wants $8.49 what they call a “tapas” box. This includes a canister of olives, a three-pack crackers, hummus, non-cheese cheese spread, almonds and a candy mint.


Too which, that seems a bit more Meditterranean than Spanish to me. Also, I’m pretty sure the cost per ounce of this particular snack box rivals that of any restaurant in the cities.

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Correction, the Tapas box is not available. We are offered the “classic”, $7 for pretzel sticks and more miscellaneous crap I would never pay to put in my mouth. Classic is a word that has lost all meaning. It now means, old and bad. Sort of like “racist” means “person I disagree with on any political issue”.

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The toddler in the window seat tries to get up, but the mom subdues him by holding him down and telling him to stop. How rare is it to hear a parent tell their kids to stop anything? Or even say ‘no’?

The parents in the back are trying to distract their kid with toys. Lesson: Act like a boorish little turd, and every effort will be made to entertain you.

An additional child, sister of window toddler, is seated across the aisle from me. She is a gem. The well-behaved kids speak no English, not incidentally.

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Apparently, Nicolas Cage made a movie called The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. I don’t know why. Uh-oh… Papers blowing around. Magic’s brewin’.

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The aforementioned, hyper-entertained toddler is now being walked up and down the aisle. In fairness, her parents are almost certainly mourning last night’s election results. Window toddler is now asleep.

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I suppose I should mention that I’m headed to San Francisco. I expect the entire town will be quite surly, under the circumstances. I half expect to find Pelosi face down in a puddle of her own mascara (ed. note - not so, on both counts).

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The in-flight “house red” is far less Australian than the in-flight magazine claimed. It is, however, served cold, so this is the closest I’ve come to dining at Heidi’s in awhile. (ed. note: Shefzilla can't read this because I'm on a plane).

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Speaking of restaurants, I’m dining at Incanto tonight, the owner of which authored the letter on Foie Gras referred to here. Great chefs who take common-sense positions on controversial issues get my business. (ed. note: This place is magic, to the degree it deserves yet another blog post of its own. Two quick points. Fish semen tastes a lot better than you think it would, and the sommelier hailed my taxi. There's a sentence nobody has ever written.)

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The movie is still on. Some kid is wearing a catcher’s outfit, trying to corral some sort of magic. We cut to an effeminate man with poofy hair. He is evil, presumably. Truth be told, I’m not listening to the movie, so they could be doing an ironic send-up of the whole “sorcerer's apprentice” genre. That said, there is no “sorcerer's apprentice” genre, so it would be like Zoolander, an ironic send-up of something that does not happen.

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Entertained-toddler is having herself another fit. My Koss Porta-Pro headphones may make me look like a total dork, but my dorky ass doesn’t have to listen to entertained-toddler. Why? Because I've got booming bass.

Mr. Sexy in his sleek, treble-heavy earbuds? He’s getting a mix of Sorcerer’s Apprentice, engine noise, and entertained-toddler screams. It's no fun being fashionable when you want to commit suicide.

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Entertained-toddler is fascinated by aisle-gem-no-english-pre-schooler, who was watching Sorcerer’s Apprentice, but gave up in disgust. Kids know schlock when they see it; They just don’t know the word “schlock” yet. What is Spanish for schlock? Chipotle?

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If I have a daughter, she will learn the word “schlock” by the time she is four years old. I will then enroll her in public school for precisely three days, so she can learn how to use it in a sentence.

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The flight lands in 30 minutes, so I need to turn off my electronic device. Otherwise, it will magically interfere with the plane for some reason.

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