Is It Me, Or Is It SkyMall: Part 2

Two years ago – interestingly (to me, at least) almost two years ago to the day – I wrote a post called Is It Me, Or Is It SkyMall?  In this little old post of mine, I noted a few SkyMall listings that had me giggling during a pretty irritating flight to Phoenix. 

Are you familiar with SkyMall?  If not, I’m gathering you don’t travel a lot, because these fancy catalogs grace the seatback pocket of pretty much every passenger jet in these United States of America. (Sidebar: Why do some people refer to our country as “these” United States of America? Are there other United States of America someplace else? I’ve never seen other United States of America on a map. Are they underwater? Is it Atlantis? Inquiring minds want to know.)

As I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself, there must be something about flying in late June that makes SkyMall suddenly seem more attractive, because a few days ago, I found myself yet again perusing the paper luxury mall of the sky, and yet again I had to suppress giggles so as not to disturb my very austere-looking neighbor. She did not seem like the amused-by-SkyMall type. She did not seem like the amused-by-even-very-obviously-amusing-things type. In fact, she was so intimidating that I tolerated her air vent blowing air on me (yes, on me) throughout the flight that seriously could have stopped global warming in its tracks. I couldn't even find the nerve to reach up and nudge the vent back her way.

Anyway, without further ado, yet again here are some prime examples of the joys that one can consider purchasing in SkyMall these days. Enjoy.

Okay, so I have nothing against "party cups" that are rimmed with salt and lime for margaritas. Even ones that scream "flies in the face of sustainability" and "oh my goodness how lazy can you be." My issue is that the package - peeking out behind the cup - calls these "restaurant-style" cups. To exactly what restaurant are they referring? Because yeah... no.

You know why I buy fine leather furniture? So I can completely and totally cover it up with a light brown quilted thing.

Maggie thought her mouse infestation problem was bad, with the little holes she found behind her cabinets and the torn edges of cardboard cereal boxes. She had no idea just how bad it was about to get...

I still think this looks like a cat peeking out of a giant webcam.

No. No no. Never. No. The critical thing about this item of torture isn't that it's cheesy and floats around your pool and sings Italian songs at you. It's that it sings a grand total of 3 Italian songs at you. Three. Over and over. If you have ever been around small children for any length of time, perhaps you have a concept of what that's like, to hear the same song  played or sung over and over and over. And over. 

There's this large spot in my backyard that just looks so empty and lonely. What could I put there to bring together the aesthetic of the green space? I know! A 5-foot dromaeosaurid theropod dinosaur with three strong, curved claws, including one that's characterized as a slashing weapon used to disembowel prey! Totally what that space needs.

And, of course, I couldn't follow up the original post without this. Because a 6-foot-tall Easter Island "Ahu Akivi Moai" Monolith Statue demands to be included. Curbside Delivery Available.

Tips to Make Your Early Morning Flight Fellow Passengers Not Hate You

Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, Atlanta, GA

July 18, 4:30am

When you have to take an early morning flight – which qualifies, in my opinion, as any flight before 9:00am, thanks to the need to arrive at the airport so flipping early to muddle through security – it’s frustrating enough just to wake up early enough to get to the airport on time. That alone is worth several high fives, a hearty pat on the back and bit of “kiss my arse.” Then you have to navigate check-in, the myriad of TSA rules, finding your gate and staying awake until your flight boards. It is not a situation that leaves one in a forgiving, kind and congenial mood.

Because of this, it is more imperative than ever, when you fly early and interact with your fellow travelers, to follow a few simple rules in order to prevent a cavalcade of annoyance or even outright hostility.

1. For heaven’s sake, tone down the cologne. Let’s ignore for a moment that some of us actually get headachy and nauseated by heavy cologne scents. You’re in an enclosed space. Don’t make the rest of us feel like the migraine-burdened Jeanie in your bottle of overbearing musk.
2. Talk just a little quieter, please. If you’re in a group, if you’re on your cell phone (pre-flight, of course, ahem), if you’re speaking to your small child, if you’re having a conversation with the voice in your head, if you’re practicing your monologue for your new film…look, it’s whatever-crazy-hour a.m. Even though we’re in an airport, it’s still quiet. You don’t have to make it your personal mission to show us how loud the airport will be later.
3. Please, PUH-lease, ditch the smelly food. We have covered the problem of smelly food on an airplane before. This one is universal and holds true at any time of day. ‘Nuff said.
4. As with #3, this one holds true always – please quit with the nail clipping out in the middle of the airport or on the plane. I’ve seen it too many times myself and have read way too many posts on Facebook about it to leave this one out. Is it a ritual? Are you sacrificing your nail tips to the gods of flight in hopes of a safe trip? No? Then do this at home, or at least in the restroom.
5. Sit up like a grown-up on the chairs at the gate. Yes, you in the pajamas who obviously crashed in the airport overnight. Believe me, I’ve slept in an airport. Recently, in fact. But when people start showing up at the gate, you know what? It’s time to share the seating. Because we all would love to lay down and fall asleep at this early hour. Possibly more than you, since we already had to attempt to wake up. Don’t make us go all Lord of the Flies on you.

There are so many more tips that I could share with you to make your morning flights less aggravating… for the rest of us. But I have to board my plane now. One nice thing about early morning flights: people are too tired to stand in a lunatic mob around the gate entrance once boarding begins. We’re all going to the same place, people. In the same vehicle. We will arrive at our destination simultaneously. In the mornings, travelers seem to get that. That or they just want sit still for as long as possible before lumbering through the gate and down to the plane. Because it’s early, people!

Flying with a Sucker

People who have known me for a long time will tell you, sometimes with evil glee, that I have eating issues. No, I don’t have an eating disorder, unless you consider mild addiction to pizza and Nestle Tollhouse Cookies an eating disorder (she says as she single-handedly finishes off a small pizza). Speaking of which, have you seen this DiGiorno and Toll House Cookie combo frozen dinner?? My friends brought it to my attention, and they are now only to be referred to as “The Enablers.”

Anyway, I have an unhealthy sensitivity to others’ eating behaviors. Open mouth chewing makes me uncomfortable. I flinch at gum popping or snicking. Noisy eating – loud smacking, chomping, talking with mouths full – make me feel outright nauseous.

No, this post is not about my issues with food. It’s simply the back story you need to know to appreciate fully the experience I will share with you now.

Yesterday, I flew from Atlanta to Phoenix. Those of you who have flown in the last few years know that the airlines perform an exercise at least once a year during which they sort out how to squeeze just a few more seats into the limited cabin space available. I’m convinced that soon they will require us to share seat room – literally – with our rowmates by crossing each other’s legs in a complex fashion, or maybe just by snuggling.

On my cross-country flight, I was squeezed into the middle seat between two very nice people who struck that lovely balance between friendly and non-invasive. Until just before take-off, it seemed as if this would be a snug but pleasant flight. I even found myself slightly taken with aisle-seat neighbor’s very fancy painted fingernails with their hot pink background bedazzled with silver and gray starburst patterns.

Then… the sandwich came out. Actually, I’m not sure that the term “sandwich” does justice to the odoriferous, insanely greasy meal-in-bread-in-a-long-paper-pocket-thing that aisle-seat neighbor extracted. We hadn’t even left the ground yet, and the entire cheap-seats cabin was imbued with a scent that can only be described as bordering on nostril-cauterizing. Several rows away, heads turned with noses squinched up, faces bearing confused expressions that clearly communicated, “What IS that? Is something decomposing in the air conditioning system?”

Just after aisle-seat neighbor extracted this loveliness, the plane started to taxi toward take-off. Aisle-seat neighbor reached across me and window-seat neighbor to open both window blinds, declaring, “Sorry, but I need to be able to look out during take-off. Otherwise, I get motion sick.” Good. She-who-must-eat-pungent-food-this-moment had just revealed to me her alternate identity: she-who-may-regurgitate-pungent-food-onto-my-lap. Super.

Once we were airborne, aisle-seat neighbor obliviously proceeded to slowly, very slowly, ingest her sandwich imposter thing, reaching her bedazzled, beclawed fingers into the long paper pocket to pinch off lump after squishy lump of swamp sludge to ingest. When she was mostly finished, she turned to her friend across the aisle and asked, “Do you have the napkins? I could swear I brought napkins. Didn’t I bring napkins? I know I had napkins.” Etc etc etc. She said the word “napkins” at least 35 times, then proceeded to clean her fingers by sucking on them.

Lest you think at this point that I’m exaggerating the ickiness and greasiness of this sandwich, I will share with you now that aisle-seat neighbor’s next move was to locate a stain stick in her purse. She proceeded to stain stick several spots on her clothing (including one on her ankle??).

THEN (yes, there’s a “then”), aisle-seat neighbor extracted one of those single-use tooth floss things and proceeded to start loudly, rapidly flossing her teeth. *snick* *snick* *snick* *snick*  

Aim Single-Use Floss Pick

I don’t want to know where food particles lodged in her teeth ended up. What I do know is that her flossing didn’t entirely satisfy her, as she spent the remainder of the flight loudly sucking her teeth about once every minute. And picking her teeth with her fancy fingernails. Oh, and she flossed again at some point during the flight. *snick* *snick* *snick*  Then she went right back to sucking and picking.

About midway between Atlanta and Phoenix, however, window-seat neighbor revealed himself to be either my Guardian Angel or perhaps my Fairy Godneighbor. Without a word spoken between us, he put one hand on my shoulder and with the other knowingly handed me his brand new, subscription copy of Cooking Light Magazine. I love Cooking Light Magazine, and my own July issue had not arrived before I left for this trip. It was new to me, and oh so appreciated. Reading it cover-to-cover kept my mind mostly occupied for about 45 minutes, leaving me defenseless against the sucking and the picking only for the time it took us to descend into Phoenix. Long enough, my friends. Long enough.

Do you have any food issues or horror stories you'd like to share?

*By the way, I recommend Googling the phrase “single floss” if you have a moment. Odd results.