Oh, hi there, perfect lady with flawless makeup and hair. And you, lovely man who seems to be able to maintain a toothy smile no matter how many times that old lady presses the button and asks loudly for nuts at 1am. I know you have a hard job, but I need you to do one thing for me: stop judging us. We are currently in the fifth circle of hell, hurtling through the sky in a metal tube filled with bad food, screaming babies, and recycled farts.
I don't know how you do it, but you seem to still appear roughly human after a 15 hour flight to LA, while the rest of us disgusting humans look up at you with bloodshot eyes and greasy hair, begging you for water like a parched bum in the desert. And speaking of water, why are you so STINGY with it, anyway? I bet it's because you're back there, bathing your luxurious mane in Evian, because that's what the Hilton in Paris provides you on your stop overs. I bet it's because you want to dehydrate us, for two reasons: one, so you don't have to clean those bathrooms so often. And two, because if we die, we'll probably stop complaining so much.
But you have to understand how truly horrific it is on here: well, not for those assholes in first, they're all like I'M THE KING OF FRANCE OH YES I WILL TAKE MORE CAMEMBERT WITH MY CHAMPERS AS I HEAD TO THE STAND UP SHOWER. Or even for those bastards in business—at least they get to lie down instead of being frozen into a state of rigour mortis by the end of the flight. I mean, my head hasn't had blood flow for at least 10 hours and you expect me to make the difficult decision between chicken and beef?
There is literally nothing glamorous about shoving a bunch of grumpy, tired, badly dressed people into a tiny seat and making them sit still for an entire day. I mean, I think we do pretty well considering we basically have been made into toddler/zombies by the end of this horrific experience.
So please don't judge us for that third tiny bottle of white wine. Or for losing our actual sh*t when our headphones don’t work (What am I meant to do for the next 8 hours? Read a freaking book? Stare manically at the headrest in front of me as I try to not stab my neighbour for hogging the armrest?). Or for chucking a tanty in aisle ten when we don't get the chicken. Our life sucks so much right now, and we just REALLY wanted the chicken, god damn it.
I promise we all turn into regular humans the second we get off the flight. Well, kind of.
Image credit: Bridesmaides Via youtube