Plane

(Sorry I've been slacking. Here's the first of the study abroad-related blog posts! Me merping on the plane, on the way to Oxford for a quarter of adventure)

I'm sitting on the plane. I'm highly discontent for a number of reasons, which I will proceed to enumerate below.

First of all, who invented economy class? It's meant for skinny midgets, which if I had to guess make up 0.2% of the population. Or maybe even less! You feel like you're oozing over your seat space and can only fit your knees if you scrunch to the side.

There are no personal little screens on your flight. You are forced to watch the movie on the “big” communal screens, so the only choice you are given is whether to watch it with or without sound. You opt for sound, knowing that this usually helps a movie seem better. Doesn't work this time. Turns out to be some horrible baseball movie that has managed to spend virtually their whole budget on collecting a few stars. Clearly, none of the funds go to a competent screenwriter.

When the flight attendant comes onto the intercom and tells everyone to return to their seats and fasten their seat belts in a little bit too urgent of a voice. A minute later, the other flight attendant power walks by with a life jacket in hand, while the other does something mysterious to the emergency doors. Your palms begin to sweat. Seeking some sort of assurance amongst the bumps and jolts, you change your channel to the one where they pipe whatever is coming out of the flight deck. They're talking lots, all right, but it's all in completely incomprehensible jargon, with more numbers than words. You realize that you're probably going to die over Canada, next to this town that starts with Ed- that you've never heard of.

You don't have any Star Wars Legos with you and your ten year old neighbor is taunting you with his set. The jealousy burns. Seven and a half hours left to go.

You decide to listen to something other than K-Pop, J-Pop, C-Pop, or Teen Pop – United's offerings. So you turn on your trusty laptop only to remember that you are 30,000 miles in the air, and that itch that you get to check your facebook every time you open up your computer can't possibly be satiated. It's almost painful. You realize you have an addiction, and then realize you already knew this to be the case.

Oh dear. Some more apocalyptic flight attendant scrambling. And look! Another horrible movie is starting! How perfectly timed. I must go.