Misfortune Cookies: Flight Entertainment

Where was I? Ah, yes. The plane flight.

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past 40 years, you'd know that I don't sleep well on planes. Not even on redeye flights. And actually, in general, I preferred redeyes because it feels like no time is wasted on a plane. But really, when you think about it, they're not that cool. Once you land in the morning, you are DEAD TIRED. In most cases, you can't check into your hotel until the afternoon, so you smell, you feel lousy, your T-Zone bubbles up, and in general, all you want to do is sleep. I guess for those who can sleep just dandy 40,000 feet in the air, redeyes are great and refreshing and you really don't lose any time. But for us nobodies, all we want to do after we land is hit a nice bed and pass out. So in essence, I lose a day anyway.

But back to the plane flight. I know my last Misfortune Cookies entry was two blogs ago, but try to remember that since we rushed to the plane station after the concert and stuffed our faces full of wontons along the way, I had no time to brush my teeth, wash my face, get all comfy, all that good stuff. My only saving grace was the little line of dental floss I pocketed earlier.

So there we was waiting for the plane to come and I went, "Hey! I loves me some floss right about now." And I sent a signal from my brain down my right arm and to my hand, bought it down to my pocket, knocked and entered, dug around and pulled out nothing but minty lint. That sounds like a cool band name: The Minty Lints. Could this have been the last straw till a complete and utter breakdown? Nah, I hate to floss anyway. BUT now I was stuck with wonton junk chillin' between my enamelous region.

Whatever! thought I. And I signaled to the feet to carry me to the bathroom and rinsed my face off. Airport handsoap does wonders for the pores.

The airport was nice enough to give us some Wheat Thins and water, books and magazines, but I wasn't into that. I had my wonderful survival kit. I pulled out my iBook and searched for a free internet signal, but cheap ass Los Angeles doesn't offer anything for free. So I was SOL there.

After playing some Nintendo DS for a bit, I dozed off in the most uncomfortable sleeping position this side of the Milky Way. Body bent. Neck twisted. Arms dismembered. Toes curled. But sleep I did and woke up every 20 minutes or so. And at one time, a fart, which came 3 millimeters from escaping my cheeks, woke me as I clenched. Those suckers can't get away so easily.

The plane arrived! Man, the people getting off the flight didn't look too happy. I'm sure their loved ones picking them up were even less thrilled. Let us on! They let us on.

Father Routes, Mother Routes, and Timotei booked their tickets first and got a row all to themselves like a perfect loving family. As the bastard child, I sat across the aisle in the same row. A nice elderly couple (though the wife at first looked like a major be-otch) sat in the inside seats next to me. Directly behind my family was a row of young children who had to have been 7, 6, and 2 1/2 years old. They were all sound asleep, but it was going to be a 7 hour flight. Do the math.

It's nice to sit on the aisle because you are free to move about the plane as you please. However, I became more concerned with the elderly couple next to me. So, I was not able to sleep well. Every few minutes, I would wake up to make sure they didn't need to pass through. Of course, once I let my guard down, the old woman tries to squeeze passed my legs and wakes me up. I kept an eye open so that when she came back, I would let her back in easily, but MAN, that lady took forever in the bathroom. After she came back, I figured that the man would have to go next, but for hours nature didn't phone him. Three hours later, he finally asked me if he could use the facilities. I let him through with no fuss.

Ahhh, finally! With their bladders both emptied, I was at last free to relax.

Cue the 2 1/2 year old child. He awakened and was restless. The mother tried to get him to calm down, but he wouldn't have any of that. He fought his seatbelt and contorted into the bendiest positions to find comfort. For the last hour of the flight, he whined and bitched and squealed.

So by now I was fully awake; there was no use trying to sleep now with the flight ending. And the kid was still fussing. So here we were coming in for a landing and I thought to myself, "I'm going to enjoy this kid shit a flippin' brick when we touch down."

The plane hovered over the landing strip and... BOOM! The wheels touch the ground. The whole cabin shakes. And the wittle baby brat's eyes flew wide open. The kid shut his mouth and looked at me with eyes of complete terror. And I laughed! I loved it.

You're probably thinking by now, it's been three blogs into this trip report and we're only now getting to New York! What the hell happened in NEW FLIPPIN' YORK BE-OTCH?!

I'm glad you asked because next time, I will tell you. And actually, things honestly started to look up.

To Be Continued.