Of Airplanes & Snack Boxes

In ages past ('bout 15 yrs ago), when man flew across the nation he could expect a meal to be served. Occasionally this meal was even hot, and might consist of a chicken dish, mashed potatoes and a vegetable. Somewhere along the way, the airlines decided it was cheaper to offer the ubiquitous "snack box".

Don't get me wrong, the snack box is highly superior to the previous "chicken" and side dishes of dubious nature. For a mere 3$ a person can now purchase $1.50 worth of life-sustaining foodstuffs.

This food is stuff we all know and love in miniature form. My $3 bought me 2 Oreo cookies, a bag of cinnamon-raisin bagel chips, 2 crackers, a square of cheddar cheese spread, 'trail mix', a small plastic knife and a moist towlette. Almost as surprising as the familiarity of the fare is the large amount of calories packed into the little package and my ability to remain hungry after eating it all and licking every crumb from the insides of the wrappers.

The makers of the snack boxes have also thoughtfully managed to remove all flavor from said items. I considered eating the moist towlette just to add a little spice to the “meal”,  but decided against it, using it instead for the purpose for which God and nature intended (to wipe my hands, in case you didn't know).

The moist towlette gave me a pleasantly lemony scent, as if I had just dipped my hands in furniture polish. I briefly considered rubbing it under my arms to complete the effect, but determined against it. Instead I’ve saved what’s left of the towlette for later.

As I am a seasoned traveler, I know that having consumed a mere 500 calories I will not make it through the rest of the flight without sustenance. A few years ago I dropped some serious cash on one of those fancy travel bags with the dimensional door built in. Experienced voyagers were therefore unsurprised when I produced a lovely lobster bisque, garlic & rosemary mashed potatoes, asparagus with oyster sauce, an entire rack of lamb, and my signature applesauce cheesecake. To drink I enjoyed a , served in one of those little plastic cups with the airline logo on it. Did you know they'll let you keep the plastic cup? I asked, it's ok. I'm saving them up, and I'm thinking about building a house out of them when I have enough.

11:17 am time and only 2 hours in to a 5 hour flight. My seatmate is snoring softly next to me, so I have stuffed my moist towlette up her nose. She is perfectly silent now. I, however, am beginning to suffer the first pangs of a feeling that strikes fear and loathing into the very core of my being - I have to go to the bathroom.

I have never before gone to the bathroom on a plane, and don't intend to start now. I mean, did you hear about that lady who flushed the toilet while she was still on it? Apparently if your behind is big enough to cover the entire seat - and mine is, see section above on my in-flight meal - it can create a seal over the toilet. You see, airplanes get rid of waste via suction, and when you create a seal...well, they had to call paramedics when they landed and surgically remove her from the toilet. I know about this because it actually happened to a friend of a friend of mine¹.

Nature called, however, and you know how I love to talk on the phone. I looked behind me and saw people standing in the aisle, waiting for their turn in the lavatory. I didn't wish to stand in the aisle next to a total stranger for God knows how long waiting for my turn. I mean, if I did that then people would know I'm going to the bathroom! I'd stand there, shifting my feet as my bladder slowly began to distend through the abdominal wall, threatening to rupture (or at least stretch my pants all out), and they'd be looking at me...with their eyes.

I considered pissing myself, and was just reflecting with a sigh of regret that I'd already used my moist towlette on my seat-mate, when someone near me walked to the front of the plane and used the other bathroom. Oh. The other bathroom. Right.

I waited impatiently for him to finish, my heart pounding with fear that some less discriminating person might get up and actually stand in the aisle like a barbarian. I envisioned a scenario where a succession of knuckle-draggers would keep me from my goal, eventually forcing me down to their level just for my chance to be hermetically sealed to an airplane toilet, but no one was yet standing up when this good man exited the lavatory. Knowing he sat behind me I was forced to wait until he walked all the way down the aisle and back to his seat until I could get up. A mad dash for the restroom while shouting "this is an emergency, out of my way!!" that resulted in the poor man getting trampled would not help me retain the low-key status I was seeking and is also an activity the FAA has frowned upon since 9-11.

I made it to the lavatory with my honor and my pants intact. I did not flush while I was still seated because I am smart¹. While I was in there I discovered that the soap provided ironically smells like feces, and again I lamented the loss of my precious moist towlette. I figured it was ok though, because I planned on another snack box. I was hungry again.

¹ For those of you who are dense and think I'm serious: I am aware that this is an urban legend.

For those of you who are dense and believed my story: This is just an urban legend.