Flight Food

I spend a considerable amount of time thinking about the flying experience, but never quite enough articulating it. I'm fascinated by flight food in particular. It's not inherently interesting. It's rarely been an engaging topic of conversation. Frequent flyers probably don't want to think about it at all. Absurd as it may seem, it's true that I could sit and marvel at its oddities for the longest time. Here's a little excerpt I wrote about flight food.

"I stare at the tray on my plastic fold-out table. Everything in it looks odd, like it came tumbling out of a factory conveyor belt. Plastic, paper and metal stare back at me, cut and buffed into branded sophistication. 

The food is hot, although not for long. The portion fulfills, but is not the kind to evoke a sigh of satisfaction at the end. And the flavors are present, but not potent. Yet, I’m amused that this bland, meagre meal excites me so.

The geometry of my tray is flawless. The elements are simple, but fit together like tessellations, their edges aligning at terrific angular accuracy. Smooth cutlery lies sheathed in a perfectly crimped wrap. There is a box of oily chicken gravy next to one cup and two sachets—one for refined sugar, the other for powdered milk. The powdered milk one has a cartoon cow on it and is stamped with a dubious logo. Beside it is a royal blue paper napkin—while it’s flimsy, it’s folded into a triangle with a precision that swanks. A little cup of butter is cradled to the side by the most dainty-looking bun I've ever seen. I chuckle to myself as a few water droplets run down my orange juice box. 

Airlines have really mastered the art of making dinner look utterly delightful."