There is nothing like sitting down in a cramped seat between two people who have no intention of talking to each other for eleven hours. A lot of people say, “Life isn’t about the destination, it’s about the journey.” If vacations are like that, perhaps it would be a better idea for me to stay home.
But a winning bliss of the international airline experience is the food. This food is terrible by almost every means. It is disgusting and processed, drenched with oil, making it greasy in all the wrong places and dry in all the places where even grease would be appreciated.
Still, there is something mystical about the food, because for me, it cements the idea of being a voyager. Simply sitting for eleven hours may not be the most heroic of actions, but eating hot food that was prepared and wrapped in plastic days in advance for travelers is an experience unique to flying, one that makes me feel like an astronaut.
In the modern American world, it is rare and uncommon for people to physically struggle (especially in the food sector). Perhaps it is the airplane food that cements (to me at least) that the airplane experience is truly on a different frontier. And it makes me feel grateful for the food we do have back on the ground.