Live from 17D

Now that wi-fi is becoming essentially a standard in-flight servicing offer (ahem, Mother United), no longer must one be faced with the in-flight entertainment horror that is the latest failed rom-com from one of the Jens (J-Lo/Anniston). So as I was staring down the barrel of this four hour flight that I'm on right now and armed with a 50% off coupon, I knew I'd fire up the electronic device as soon we hit 10,000 feet.

A few observations from my seat, 17D:

If the amount of carry-ons you are lugging as if you were a Nepali Sherpa causes your body width to double, perhaps and I'm no Mr. Physics here, you should turn to the side as you attempt to make your way down the aisle. You're not a bulldozer, so take it down a notch.

Keep your shoes on. Why must this continue to be an issue? And if you walk into the fetid swamp that is the lav at 2R in those bare feet, then I would opine that you should be put down (humanely of course) upon arrival. That's probably too harsh, so enjoy the fun with Hep-c that's coming your way! FYI - the count is three who have committed said offense on this flight so far.

The seat in front of you is not, I repeat, is NOT a sling shot. There is no need for you to pull back on that seat as far as you possibly can in order to get out of your seat. I'm talking to you, 18D. I bought a seat on an airplane, not a carnival. Had I wanted whiplash-inducing ride on a tilt-a-whirl, I would have found the nearest creepy carnival manned by crackheads and been tossed around accordingly. Again, not what I signed up for on today's flight.

The inflight snack, the Biscoff cookie is Belgian crack and I am its whipping boy.

So there you have it - my first post, live from 37,000 feet!