In-Flight Fear

My pervasive in-flight fear is not that we will crash into a mountain (I was flying from Denver to Dallas) or be accosted by terrorists with saline solution or fingernail clippers or even narcoleptic pilots (big cover-up, there!), but that we will be on our merry way, at a comfortable cruising altitude, and collide with a chevron of unwary, innocent geese or a flock of top-secret CIA carrier pigeons. No one comes out smiling of that one. So far, the skies immediately ahead are clear of any avian activity. Furthermore, the lady beside me had abandoned her seat for an empty row in front of me (leaving the equivalent amount of space as first class) and the beverage cart can be heard rolling up the aisle, in perfectly wonderful understated-while-still-being-intrusive style.

The light-footed, cap-tooth flight attendant looked at me suspiciously, as it was clear I had not purchased my set of zombie headphones, and asked for my choice of beverages. I chose coffee. He then set in my open tray table a small, condom-sized plastic/foil vacuum-pack with embossed repeated AA insignias promising “Premium Snack Mix-a blend of mini pretzels, honey roasted sesame stick, and cheddar corn bites. Net weight ½ oz. (14.2 grams)” Why wont the U.S. adapt the metric system Haven’t we made our point, already? Of my Premium Snack Mix, I enjoy the mini pretzels the most and don’t care so much for the cheddar corn bites.
Looking out the window, I swear I see an alien crop circle among the patchwork of eastern Colorado fields! Within its intricate and wholly indecipherable pattern of symbols, on sentence is carefully crafted, in both English and French: “Wouldn’t a set of in-flight headphones be nice right about now?” No, they wouldn’t. But I’d appreciate more of those Premium Snack Mixes.