Oh, the humanity.
The curse of those who can't sleep on a fucking endless airplane trip isn't that we have more time to ponder the culinary atrocities such as this...
Or this...
Or this...
That smushed up piece of breadlike substance? Continental's idea of a fresh baked croissant...yummy, no?Even those wretchedly pitiful excuses for human nourishment, which we all shamefully, even eagerly wolf down out of a desperate hunger because we were too shortsighted to bring food on board that we would actually want to put in our mouths, we eat this drek disregarding the potential for gastric disaster, and still it doesn't measure up to the pain of having to watch those around you blissfully nap while you stare mindlessly at the map of the jet crossing the ocean eight inches in front of your face on a six inch screen attached to the seat back in front of you, which the jerk in front of you immediately slammed back into full recline as soon as he got the okay. Even worse, this fine piece of flying aerospace technology that can miraculously cross the ocean at 35,000 feet, with all it's high tech navigation working in perfect harmony, can't seem to run any of the video channels except for that or the one that shows endless, mind-numbing, suicidal-thought inducing loops of Bewitched, the Brady Bunch, and Mr. Bean. While I have a somewhat minor appreciation of Rowan Atkinson's comedy, and thought Marcia Brady was a total babe when I was a kid, enough is enough. And they don't even have the human decency to offer free drinks anymore to those of us riding in what I have come to think of as "Cattle Class". Oh, the humanity. Three more hours....if I really focus I swear I can get that cartoon jet to move faster.....
