Tuesday, August 12

This is what happens when you sit in a metal tube for six hours

It’s somewhat disturbing how much I take cross-country flights in stride these days. Not that I don’t still have my moments of “ohgodohgodohgod” during turbulence, but I’m definitely in the expert traveler lane these days. The ubiquitous babies don’t even faze me anymore, and I thought I’d gotten used to the shared TV-watching experience on JetBlue, but I was wrong. Red Sox game on ESPN on a Boston to Seattle flight? Everyone is on the same channel. Pats? Ditto. But I was caught off guard when the plane erupted in various cheers when the one of the members of the US men’s gymnastics team stuck his landing. It was kind of awesome.

And, as the flight wore on and the Olympics wore off, it occurred to me: How do I know that I’m really flying? I mean, this plane looks like a damn movie set. I could be sitting in some weird fake plane for six hours when really they zapped me across the country in six seconds. What if it’s all some great conspiracy with the oil bastards to continue to charge me ridiculous amounts of money? I’m just saying.

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