CAN COOKIES ALTER SPACE & TIME?

It’s been said that flying is hours and hours of crushing boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. I’ve experienced that before, but mostly it’s boredom for me. It’s very difficult to sit still for long periods of time, with nothing to do but watch a movie, read a book, sleep, or eat – all done within the confines of a narrow seat with little to no legroom.

Such was my trip to Houston last Wednesday. The first leg was uneventful, except for the fact that it was unnecessary. I started at Bob Hope Airport, which is what they call the Hollywood-Burbank airport (international airport designation BUR). When I was a kid it was called Lockheed Airport, which may give you an idea of just how old I am.

I like flying out of there. It’s fairly small, which means it just can’t get too crowded and you never have to walk too far. It’s also reasonably close to my home, which means I can get there without too much traffic hassle. But I really didn’t need to leave from there, especially to fly first to San Francisco.

This all happened because I was the unknowing victim of a desire by one of my colleagues to fly United Airlines. He has traveled a great deal and has frequent flyer miles, which he uses to get upgrades to better seating; either business or first class.

Unfortunately, the Office Admin who made my reservations merely copied his entire itinerary and changed the name. So, unbeknownst to me, I was placed on a flight to San Francisco, on my way to Houston, Texas, all because my colleague wanted a little more leg room for a three and half hour flight. I would have sat in coach to save myself the extra two and half hours (or more) it took to fly up north and wait for a connecting flight.

One thing I noticed on the plane. United Airlines apparently no longer serves meals on their flights; they offer snacks and “boxes” for you to purchase. I ponied up my $5.00 and bought a box of salami slices, cheese spread and crackers, potato chips, applesauce, and two Partridge Farm Milano cookies (my favorite cookies of all time).

As I prepared to dig in to these treats I had just procured, I realized the box was shrink-wrapped, like a god damned CD. Now, think of it. They won’t let you take a nail clipper on a flight, but they sell you a box of food wrapped so tight you practically need a knife just to get to the perforated strip to open the box. I finally got it open after much effort. What the hell do people with arthritis do?