I flew into LAX from Newark last night on American Airlines. I arrived at the airport two hours early for a flight that was two hours late (information that they sold us fifteen minutes at a time, no more than we could handle). I had a jangly stomach and I’d rather shit my pants than go on a plane. Don’t get me started on Newark airport.
I bought an imodium at the airport store. I went to get a drink and realized it was the kind of individual packet you need to open with scissors. I’m not allowed to have scissors in an airport. I go back to the store to see if they can open it, there’s now a long line. I’m afraid if I bite the package, my teeth will lose badly. Ultimately, someone from the TSA opened it for me. After some consultation.
When we finally landed, after eight hours and nineteen hundred miles, they told us we could use our cell phones. We all eagerly dialed our families, as piped in music blared in the cabin, so none of us could hear anything. We had twelve channels of music to choose from during the flight. No one had been deprived of music.
Speaking of music, the movie on the flight was High School Musical 2. Are we meant to believe that, along with being a talented singer and dancer, Zac Efron’s character is also some sort of basketball star? Are even the young girls who love him buying this?
Jack Silbert, curator