This post was written 30,000 feet in American air space & published in retrospect. Flying to the other side of the world inspired this slightly bitter & exhaustion laden piece about air travel.
Right now I am sitting on a plane. By the time you read this I will have long ago disembarked my temporary jail cell of the sky, yet rest assured, as these words are being written I am very much submerged within the suffering inflicted on those needing to get to far away parts of the world.
Flying is shit. Let’s not roll a turd in sugar and try claim it will taste nice. It’s so bad. So very bad. I happen to have an intense phobia of flying, but that is neither here nor there right now. It is the most irrational part of my life. I’d like to kill some time (PLEASE GOD) exploring WHY flying is so shit. Please behold my musings from the sky:
PEOPLE. People are everywhere, right? So why would people make flying shit? You are near people for the better part of everyday. Yes, true. But holy shit so many people. So many people in your personal space. STRANGERS, at that. So many people in your fucking grill for such a long god damn time. Oh, what true test of patience and tolerance does one ship of the sky bestow. Some dude putting his elbow on both rests. Quite an innocent gesture, on the ground. NOT IN THE SKY. IN THE SKY THIS MAKES YOU A FUCKING DEVIANT. HOW DARE YOU?! STICK TO YOUR MEAGRE PORTION OF PERSONAL SPACE YOU ASSHOLE. Please. Always fly with someone if you can, as even though you are sharing, this doubles personal space. And personal space is the currency of the sky.
SPACE. As previously mentioned, this shit could be a commodity in the air. Stake claim as you as you sit down. You weren’t the first to sit down? Oh. Suck shit. You will more than likely have less space than you were meant entitled to when you paid some humorous amount of money for your ticket. Like me right now. Elbows tucked in, personal belongings neatly on your lap, for five whole hours. Amazing.
PACKING. An anal retentive, organised person’s nightmare. Why? Because you’re fucking organised and that means packing something for every which situation that your over-active imagination could fathom. I really envy laid back people when it comes to flying. A long haul flight calls for a contingency for everything, and the kicker is it must all fit in your backpack. Currently I have a backpack with me that weighs as much as a five year old child who only eats chicken nuggets. I have something for everything in there. Including pyjamas. There is no pride when hauling your ass cross country.
PRIVACY. While we are on the topic of leaving your pride at the airplane door, it is worth noting that flying fucking sucks partly due to the lack of privacy. Someone is probably reading over my shoulder right now thinking “what a load of shit. What a loser. This bitch”. Such is the ways of flight. If you want 30 odd people to see you sleeping and drooling and in your rawest, ugliest state then flying is what you should do. But this matters not as I have a strict no-pride policy. It’s all about comfort. Because FLYING FUCKING SUCKS. Who cares. I would smear shit on myself if it somehow made flying an ounce more endurable. I would. Luckily human shit serves no foreseeable benefits so I won’t yet be pooping in my own hand and smothering it on my face. See what flying does to people? How did I even get to discussing wearing human faeces? I obviously hate flying a whole lot, as there is a running shit theme rearing it’s head.
So what can you take from all of this?
1. PEOPLE: they suck mostly. Avoid them as best as possible.
2. SPACE: take as much as you can. Would you rather be the selfish asshole or the stupid asshole? Just remember if you are the selfish asshole, you ARE going to hell (in moderate comfort).
3. PACKING: try and be the disorganised, naive type who packs nothing yet gets by fine. Hippies.
4. PRIVACY: there is none. So don’t smear your poop on yourself. Everyone can see you.
5. Cop it on the chin, and hope your destination is worth the hours of suffering. Which they usually are, or I wouldn’t be here right now. And I know I will always do it again, and illogically I cannot wait until next time.