Somewhere over the Atlantic

Wednesday 28 August

We used to prepare an appetizing carry-on whenever we had to eat on a plane, but since they outlawed liquids, pastes, dull knives, suspicious flasks, and anything else that might strike their obsessive minds, we gave up. Also, on trans-Atlantic flights, it's better to swallow what they give you (including as much alcohol as possible) and try to get some sleep. We flew Delta, so we knew the food would be abysmal. When asked "chicken or pasta?" Barbara said chicken and Holt said pasta, in hope that one of the two would be edible. Two mini-slices of chicken breast gave comfort in the fact that they were at least recognizable as parts of a former chicken. Two ravioli had more flavor, but imparted less confidence in the premise that they were actually food. The normal accompaniments - iceberg lettuce shreds like styrofoam, a roll ditto, pre-packaged dressing, crackers, cheese, and brownies - did not disappoint in their disappointingness.
The best we can say is that we arrived on time, and they only broke one piece of our luggage.