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Saturday 29 February 2020

Thoughts on air travel as a submarine-setter

In my life as a influencer, heh, and jet-setter (clarify: private-submarine-setter whenever possible), I must often fly to fake locations around the world. Sometimes I have to go to real places too. Oh, bother!

A while ago I flew, not by self-propulsion, which is another excellent option (see below), but on a plane. I had a suitcase. And I was in class H. Yes, you read that right. Remember when there used to be economy and first class, then business class nudged its way in, until this: class H, which presumably stands for Hot Hottie.

I was class Q (stands for "This is quackers!") on my return flight.
I thought there was a misprint.

My favoured way to fly.
One of my first self-propulsion flights.

I expected my boarding lineup to be way over in the other terminal I was so far down the list. If I was lucky there might be a bicycle or push scooter to transport me down the line. But no, I was lumped in with all the uppity classes, C D E F and Gs, and was later forced to sit with people waaay below my class, L M N O P. The indignity! Meanwhile, the As and Bs got their own rarefied air travel experience shuffling in the line next to mine. No mooing herd heard.

I know Canada is a classless society, but we certainly adapt quickly when it comes to air travel. [haughty sniff]

What to pack for an overnight trip 
This is part of what I brought with me. 
It's crucial that everything fits in a carry-on bag. 
I brought six attendants to aid in this process. 

Upon boarding and settling into your seat, you may discover that the person beside you is maybe a class F (Frickin' Frick), two steps above my class H.

She certainly didn't look class F, more like a J. 
Oh, the charade!! 

In fact, I only found out her higher status because she got priority snack service, which meant she could buy her potato chips first (crisps), grrr, but included in the price was the ire of everyone within eyesight and earshot of her crunch and grin. I thought, Heh, good deal! - nothing like being locked in a tubular cage surrounded by people who hate you for five hours.

But maybe this is the essence of the class structure. The one-percenters get chips (if class F counts); the rest of us watch and listen and get jealous and mad, while they crunch, look smug, exhale their horrible chip breath all over the place, and prepare to dash to the nearest exit. Sigh.

(Class H stands for Class Hot Hottie)

Adding injury to insult, the flight attendant dropped that mini can of chips on my wrist and it really really hurt bad. Did I get free chips? No! But she brought me a clear plastic baggie knotted at the top and filled with ice chips sloshing around in reddish water which looked like meat juice. There were probably shards of bone in there too.

What fresh hell was this!? 

If I were class E or F (remember I was H), I'm sure I would have received at least a blue Freezie pop. I'm sure in Class A or B they would have forgone the meat runoff and just slapped a raw sirloin steak on my wrist before serving it to me for lunch.

I suppose this setup has a certain fairness, except for my grievous injury. The woman beside me paid more for the extras, like PRIORITY CHIPS, like you pay for extra space: x dollars for right elbow room, x dollars for earlobe space, hip space, baby toe space, x  dollars for middle finger space, but many of us just take advantage of that one without paying, which begs the question:

Is that breaking the rules?

I should get on board with this new reality and propose that airlines charge for oxygen. You get x cubic litres for x dollars. Of course it would be timed so you have to top up when you get close to your destination. It's only good marketing. And extra-fresh air for an extra fee. Miz Bagg always used to charge me for air in the office.

I can envision all kinds of money-making schemes.
  • "Yes, sir, that is indeed your pudding. You didn't order a container or a spoon." 
  • "No bathroom privileges for you! You didn't pay the extra $100." "But this is a 10 hour flight!" Which of course would boost sales for the fresh air option.
Another flying adventure, this time with co-pilot Sandra @standard.deviations.

I'm sure the troll on the wing of the plane in that Twilight Zone episode below would never get away with free passage on the wing like that these days. Trolls must board like the rest of us, regardless of their class, where at least we can all keep an eye of them, as if that helps.

Really, if I could self-propulse everywhere I would, but it gets cold up there. After this experience, I'm truly grateful for my private luxury submarine. If I could only figure out how to portage it across the prairies I wouldn't have to put up with this nonsense. Suggestions?


I hope you are all fine and dandy. I've been missing this blog world.

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