Too Lazy To Think Of A Title

When it’s 4 am and you’re jetlagged beyond belief, it’s hard to think of other topics to write about besides planes. If asked at the current moment, I would describe them as the bane of my existence, since this jetlag will no doubt cost me dearly once I head into work in another couple hours. Planes are too easy of a target anyway, which is maybe why it seemed appropriate to write this, although maybe the time of day when it was written could have been slightly improved.

With that preface, I’d like to hand out a few hard-earned and well-deserved awards to individuals I have been around on recent flights over the past month or so.

The “Fight to the Finish” Award goes to the Russian gentleman in front of me all the way from Atlanta to Moscow. The seat next to him was empty, so in an effort to maximize his comfort level, he spent the ensuing 11 hours shifting, squirming, flailing, turning, leaning and spinning in order to find that ONE comfortable position. Due to the fact that he changed positions completely every 20-30 seconds, I’m not convinced he found that position, but give credit where credit is due – the man is a fighter. For 11 hours. Not stopping. Ever. Even for a little bit.

The “Winning Friends and Influencing People” Award couldn’t go to anyone else besides this lady in first class from New York to Salt Lake City. Already well-hydrated with all sorts of alcoholic beverages by the time we boarded, she would not be denied a conversation with all her surrounding neighbors at 120+ decibels. Did boarding the plane stop the booze intake? Please. It’s like asking if going to a buffet is good for dieting.

The “Still To This Minute I Have No Idea What The Heck Good That Is Going To Do” Award is usually the one with the most candidates, but none this time more deserving than the flight attendant lady from St. Petersburg to Moscow. As we approached landing in Moscow, she did want any well-trained stewardess would do – go up and down the aisle asking everyone to open their window. I was counted among the offending parties with my window down until the long arm of justice required me to open it. This way, we can all clearly see the ground when we slam into it. I get it.

Speaking of slamming into the ground, the “You’ll Die Of Cardiac Arrest Long Before Ever Dying In A Plane Crash” Award goes to the one and only worthy candidate on board the flight from Long Beach to Salt Lake City. To her defense, we did hit industry-termed “rough air”, but let’s be honest for two seconds: you clenching your armrests in utter terror each and every dip we take won’t be saving your life, especially since if we did go down, you’d probably hit the ground going 500 mph. I assure you, the obituary wont’ read, “If only she had held on tighter…”

And once again, speaking of slamming into the ground (my apologies to those reading who have a fear of flying), the “No Seriously, We Get It” Award goes to the Federal Aviation Administration for STILL telling AND demonstrating how to use a seatbelt. Even if I had never been in any car, truck, van, or one of a myriad of amusement park rides, I would bet a large sum of money I could figure out how the thing was fastened. But not released, so it’s good they still tell us how to do that. Thank heaven.

The “Horrible” Award goes to the freaking sandwich I was fed from Moscow to New York.

And finally, the Best of Show Award, aptly titled the “Pantene Pro-V” Award goes out to the large Polynesian man flying from Long Beach to Salt Lake City. His lion’s mane of hair had likely gone unshampooed for the better part of the 2010 calendar year, which didn’t stop him from asking the previously unknown girl next to him if she could braid his hair on both sides of his head. “Like Pippy Longstocking?” she asked. Once the braid on his left side was done, he was up out of his seat and spun around so she could braid the other side. And this was all sitting on the tarmac before takeoff.