Airports are icky

Airports make me gross and sweaty. On the other hand, I find airplanes harsh, cold and frigid. And airline staff, irritable and hostile. Passengers are stuck, victims, in a chlosterphobic space with airline employees who hate you, they do hate you, why do they hate you? That’s a damn good question. Sure you paid $500 for a 1 hour flight but you, sir, will wait for your Fresca until the cart comes (10 minutes before landing).
Stewardess hate you, it’s part of the package, free drinks, peanuts and scowls. And what happened to the myth of the “hot stewardess”? Because for the last 5 years I have seen grandmothers, fat bald men, and a handful of witch school rejects. All scowling. Like sandpaper to the eyes.

Like this one time, a passenger asked for a puke bag, the stewardess scowls, says “Ya alright, just wait a minute” (Apparently she had important things to do on that 60 passenger plane. Well guess what? She didn’t come back for 10 minutes. By then his neighbor had given him his puke bag, and it was well used. The woman next to him offered some of her water, and I gave him a piece of gum. Lesson from US Airways: you are on your own, if you don’t want someone else’s puke on you, share your bag…
Then there was this one time the loading crew threw my suitcase out of the cargo area 30 feet to the cement below, upon which my suitcase wheels shattered resulting in 40 minute hold on the phone to customer service and a $100 voucher that is essentially useless since flights cost $400+.

Regardless of the lack of manners of the staff, the pilots on this flight were surprisingly funny. There is a difference between “staff” and “pilots”. The staff include the guys who waive the glow sticks, empty the toilets, work the call center from India, and serve the inflight coffee. These are a bunch of angry hateful individuals. The pilots however, tend to be professional and humorous. Today’s humor: “This is Steve from the cockpit flying with copilot Marie. She is a little nervous as this is her first flight. And I am a little nervous as this is my first flight too.” Hardy har har.

As soon as I found out the Marie was a virgin pilot, I immediately became a critic. The bumps, the accelerations, the landing she completely fumbled. But I wouldn’t have known the difference had her mentor not outed her.

But I’ve yet to get to the most fascinating part of this flight. There was a couple I simply could not keep from staring at. A Japanese business man in his late 50s and his wife? Girlfriend? Mistress? A 6-foot, 20 something, Russian speaking, blonde, Uma Thurman look-alike. She was knitting (OMG give me an f***ing break) and chatting about her country. He had his hand on her thigh, because at that age who can wait to touch a hot chick younger than your daughter. One word: MailOrderBride

But they looked happy. Like they really liked each other. And who am I to deny Fukiyaki and Uma of their happiness?

Depending on which side of the plane you are sitting when flying into New York City from DC, you either have an endless view of the ocean or an impressive view of America’s eastern coastline. I was on the coastline side, which meant I also had a perfect view of the city as we approached JFK. The virgin pilot graciously leaned the plane towards the sky affording my side of the plane a full arial view of this fantastic city. What a majestic view. I adore this area of NYC.

I always think this, until I am offended by the dirt on the sidewalks, the stench rising from the subway, the crowds of tourists…Get me out of that area into a borough or someplace less spoiled with flashing lights and theatrics.

Off topic: how old are girls wearing eyeliner these days? Because they look awful funny with all that charcoal on their baby face.

Right now I just finished eating a shrimp salad at Applebees in Time Square, I’m looking out the window at a 2 story high Panasonic Screen braced against the side of the building. All I can think is how many rooms lost their window light for that display? The hotel is nice, chilly, but comfortable. I am waiting for the bellboy to bring my bags “Please bring my checked bags to room 2511.” That’s the life for me. In India, normal suburban families have a “driver” who packs your laptop and carries it to the car for you. He picks up your dry cleaning and take-away food. He is on call 24/7 in case you want a pint of chunky monkey at 2am. Yay for population 1.3 billion.

Speaking of charcoal face I think I keep MAC makeup in business, I’m learning to overdo it so that I can eventually get a job at a MAC store in NYC.
Ciao mi bellarosas!