Thanks, American Airlines for a truly unforgettable flight I took recently from Miami to San Francisco. Specifically, I’d like to mention:
Thanks, Styrofoam cup, for letting us all know that your coffee “comes from Rainforest Alliance Certified (TM) farms. helping [sic] protect wildlife and the environment while improving the quality of life for farm families.”
Without you, the world would still probably think that Styrofoam is a non-biodegradable pollutant that clogs our oceans and landfills, leaching chemicals into the foods and beverages it holds.
Thanks, round-screen TV monitors, for having about as much definition as the black and white mini-TV that was in my parents’ kitchen growing up. Without you, I might have actually been able to see the shitty movies you aired.
Thanks, whoever selects the in-flight movies, for choosing to play Mr. Popper’s Penguins and Zookeeper back to back. Without you, I never would have been able to watch two asinine movies about talking animals in a row.
Thanks, flight crew, for interrupting an amusing Christmas episode of 30 Rock for no apparent reason, to instead screen historical thriller The Conspirator, starring The Mac Guy. Without you, I’d never have realized that the thought of The Mac Guy trouncing around in a puffy shirt makes me want to stab myself in the neck. Repeatedly.
Thanks, flight attendants, for rubbing your navy blue, high-waisted pencil skirt-wearing asses on my shoulder every time you had to grab something from the low-lying drawer of a drink cart.
Thanks, mother of the small child sitting behind me in seat 20D, for not giving a shit that your waste of space daughter continuously kicked my seat for 6 1/2 hours, no matter how many times I turned around and gave you a look that said, “Control your daughter’s legs before I saw them off with a serrated plastic knife.” Without you, I might still have a desire to have children one day.
Thanks, couple playing cribbage next to me, for waiting until three hours into the flight when I put my book away, turned off the light, and tucked myself in with my blanket and neck pillow, before realizing you needed to use the bathroom.
A very special thanks goes out to that smelly person sitting in front of me—you know who you are—for eating what can only imagine was an entire raw onion.
Thanks, man speaking French across the aisle from me, for standing up to stretch your legs in the aisle for every possible second the fasten seatbelt sign was turned off. Without you blocking the aisle, everybody wouldn’t have been able to bump into me as they walked back to use the bathroom.
Thanks, coach bathrooms, for running out of towels, for having soaking-wet floors, and for smelling the way I imagine the cave they found Saddam Hussein hiding in probably smelled. Without you, I probably wouldn’t have gotten that week-long head cold that took me well into the New Year.
Needless to say, it was a flight I won’t soon forget. No thanks to the bottle of Xanax I accidentally left at home.