Today/Yesterday I traveled to Europe for the first time in years. The plane trip was comfortable enough, but a red-eye is a red-eye and even though I got a 4 hour nap I'm still just a bit out of it.
Probably the most incredible thing about the trip to me was getting served a hot meal on the airplane. Back in the day, on a simple cross country flight the airlines had *menus* from which you got to choose your meal. Once or twice I even found the airline food to be palatable. That was not the case on today/yesterday's United flight from Washington, DC to Zurich. When asked if I wanted 'chicken' or 'pasta', I innocently replied 'chicken'. Which is technically what they served me. In actuality it was about one mouthful of overcooked chicken pieces swimming in a sweet-curryish sauce, surrounded by yellow rice that had amazingly attained the consistency of Play-Dough.
Since 9/11 we've borne witness to some dramatic cutbacks in air travel: luggage fees, paying for pretzels, no movies, fewer flight attendants. I've done my share of complaining about these 'austerity measures'. But on my flight today I realized that one thing I simply don't miss on flights is that uniquely awful cuisine that can only be properly prepared above 30,000 feet. Next time I'm bringing a power bar and an apple.
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