I knocked over a vending machine…

I travel a lot.  It’s all secret missions, you know.  Litigations, defense industry work, secret manufacturing processes, and the like.  Don’t tell anyone. Some of my clients insist that I fly first class.  Hey, the customer is always right and if that’s what they want, that’s what I do.  But first class air travel sure isn’t what it used to be.  At least within the US.  It used to be that first class meant you got on the airplane first, an attractive young person took your carry on stuff and put it in the overhead bin for you, that same attractive young person would take your jacket and hang it up for you, someone else would bring you a plate of heated nuts (on a real plate, not plastic or paper), they’d ask what kind of drink you’d like (I always went for 100% blue agave Tequila, whatever you have, please), and all this was within maybe 60 seconds of getting to your seat.  And the meals…wow, they were heavenly.  Like you’d get in a restaurant.  Real food.  Real dishes.  More booze.  Cloth napkins.  It was real, you know, first class treatment.

Today?  You gotta be kidding me, I thought when the guy came around with my “lunch.”  It was a cardboard container with maybe four or five cellophane snack bags.  Like Mom used to put in my lunch when I went to elementary school.  I took the offerings the first time this happened, thinking it was a lot of snacks before they served lunch.  As we neared our destination I realized:  That was lunch.  I asked if their catering service just knocked over a vending machine.   I figured if they are giving me a first class snack, I’m going to give them first class sarcasm.

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