We are now drinking, I mean waiting for our flight. After running the gauntlet of Ticket checks, Baggage checks, Passport check, and a quick rectal exam we have finally been allowed to enter the airport terminal. It is really quite a spectacle to see how much effort has need made at these terminals, not so much to increase safety, but to extract the money from your wallet. Overpriced food, drinks, magazines. I’m sure that the airports in Nevada even have overpriced Prostitutes.
Now we see over the bar TV we see that some kind of attack has happened at the airport in Scotland. That has really done wonders on everyone’s mood here. Fucking Joy. I’m glad this happened after we made it to the terminal. I can’t imagine the sad bastards trying to get through now.
We have taken off now. Fuck howdy! Air France is an improvement over American domestic flying. To start with I simply love to fly, this is the total opposite of my wife, who is sadly terrified of the whole experience. I myself am damn near euphoric. This started with the Flight attendant walking down the aisle handing out little packets for everyone. This included:
- A sleeping blindfold
- A moistened towelette
That was slick, and was followed by the delivery of this evening’s menu, formatted as a little postcard. Of course, the menu on an airplane can actually fit on a postcard, so that really works out quite conveniently.
Drinks are arriving now. Whiskey first, then wine later. I will be getting my money’s worth out out of these bastards on this flight, More later.