The joys of air travel.
I'm flying to Phoenix in steerage class aboard America West flight 84.
It's sardine city, though fortunately there's no one in the center seat
next to me, as the space is filled by my right leg and the legs of the
woman in the window seat.
Across the aisle from me in 6A, some proud new camcorder owner has been
videotaping out the window. He recorded most of the taxi out to the
runway and the take-off; if he hadn't videotaped the clouds, too, I'd
have taken him for a future terrorist, but all signs now point to plain
old video obsession. I hope he does some masterful editing.
As we taxi out, the crew starts doing the safety demo. The video
equipment is broken, so we get the live, drama version instead of the
Once we're airborne, as Mr. Spielberg films the ever-shrinking ground,
the captain announces that lunch/dinner will be served immediately
because of anticipated turbulence. Taking that as my cue, I spring up to
retrieve my computer bag from the overhead compartment-and accidentally
unleash a torrent of canes upon the elderly couple who had tossed them
there. I apologize profusely.
Lunch is served, and it appears America West has something of a
localization problem-the pepper and salt are labelled in English and
Spanish, but the Spanish label on the salt says “pimiento” (pepper) and
the pepper is labelled “sal”.