In Flight Entertainment - New Zealand 2007

In Flight Entertainment

My flight to LA brought great wonder and amazement. I have never experienced the delight of free cable television en route. Yes I know, nothing that wondrous or even amazing, yet this was something to occupy my four hours of free time. I had finished my book. I was so screwed.

I watched many pilot episodes on TV. These shows, consisting mostly of new comedy works, were trying to claw their way into the stigma of the American public. I love pure good old-fashioned American Television. Within thirty minutes of subjecting my eyes to the polluted capitalist morals and US Army happy advertisements on NBC, I grew tired and wished to draw my head away from the box of obtuse. Still, with all the effort I possessed, I was unable to force my eyes to retreat. I was consumed with network entertainment.

I try to live in a harmony with the world around me and I try to subject my eyes to sources of nurturing information such as newspapers (ultra left wing to ultra right wing). I’ve had no use of a television for many months, but like a moth drawn to the flame, I could not overt my eyes. I was a deer in the headlights. The hours quickly followed and I was ready to order some in-flight gifts because TV told me to. TV tells me many things. TV tells me to buy things. TV tells me to join the US Army.

The rest of my flight was uneventful until our flight made its way to the outskirts of Los Angeles. As we flew overhead, I started picking out suburbs from Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and I spotted CJ’s hood (only people who played the game has any idea what I am talking about) Nobody really understood why I was laughing to myself as I traced routes of GTA missions.

My favorite moment was when I spied the HOLLYWOOD sign off in the distance. The white splendor of the letters, caressing the contours of the mountain. If I died at that very moment, I would have been a happy man. Sad huh?

We landed right on time and as I was making my way to the international terminal, I stopped to take a picture of the first palm tree I have ever seen.

Chicago (waiting) - New Zealand 2007

I spent my waiting time in the American Airline's lounge next to my boarding gate. I watched business associates cram around the wireless Internet hubs, I watched travel weary individuals freak out on the unsuspecting employees at the Burger King kiosk. I watched CNN on TV and updated myself with the latest death tolls in Iraq. I watched interviews with senior White House officials. I immediately became depressed and wished for my plane to arrive to rescue me from this dreary atmosphere. I watched a young child throw her drink all over the surrounding seats and the surrounding people who had occupied them. My mind was a wash with the chaos of the terminal.

It was at this moment that I felt a slight tug on the strap of my portfolio bag (man purse). To my surprise and dismay, a young punk around the age of thirteen was trying to claim my baggage as my own. I gave the bag one good tug and rescued my possessions from his grip and with an intimidating and angry stare from my eyes; the punk kid wished me a wonderful and fruitful day, then skipped away (actually he told me to go fuck myself and then flipped my the bird but I preferred my imagination). I had to get out of here.

I spent the next forty-five minutes watching my baggage like a hawk looking over prime hunting grounds. I could not believe the citizens that were surrounding me and I could not stomach the total anger and negative disposition of my fellow passengers. Was this just a bad day, or were all American’s so unfriendly?