The Flight Out of Paris

Always bring a book.

There are certain things you expect on an 8.5-hour, intercontinental flight. You're going to at least have the option to purchase a meal or two. There will be a handful of beverage services. And there will be some form of in-flight entertainment. Quite often in the form of your own personal television and movie media unit built into the seat in front of you. You base the way you prepare for your flight on this knowledge. Do I want to eat right before we board, do I need books, how hard should I hit the airport bar? Etc, etc, etc.

Imagine then, that you and your partner take your assigned seats, begin settling in, and notice that there is no television screen in the seat in front of you. There are no screens in the front of the cabin or above you next to the adjustable air vents......there are no adjustable air vents! Panic begins to set in and you begin to sweat, making the need for the nonexistent air vents even more pronounced. You take a quick mental inventory of the entertainment options you have on hand and realize you've got dick. 

What in the name of all that is holy are we going to do for nine hours!?!? As the direness of the situation continues to reveal itself one horrible layer at a time, your eyes widen as you scan your surroundings looking for something.....anything. You reach for the "We are about to crash" documentation/vomit bag pouch in front of you to assess the magazine situation. No magazines. But there is something.

There is this. This is a handout detailing 6 fun things you can do right now. This is not something designed to keep the kids occupied, this is what they are offering you as in-flight entertainment. I have never been so insulted, while simultaneously impressed in all of my days. The BALLS on whoever came up with this. Can you imagine? "So we're giving them nothing, right? Absolutely nothing. The last thing they're going to do is make a grab for the magazine pouch. Then you know what we give them? A handout on how to turn the vomit bag into a hook hand or some random fucking animals. Holy shit, that would be high comedy. Here you go, fucko! Enjoy your flight!" So there we were. And here's Kara. Spite-crafting an octopus out of a vomit bag at 33,000 feet.