The Airplane Dilemma

Does anyone ever get the sense that flying in an airplane is pretty much the worst form of torture ever invented. I mean you are trapped in a tiny ass plane with strangers for occasionally more than 10 hours? OK, so right now it's not a small plane, it's the A-380, but still, I feel like I'm in my own claustrophobic coffin where I am most definitely the subject of some painful form of torture which most likely will happen on any flight.

Let me just give you some examples, that happen all the time.

1) The Screaming Baby: I don't think I've been on a plane that hasn't had one. Sadly for me, my 12 hour flight from Singapore to Paris includes one who hasn't shut up for more than five minutes. Yes, I understand babies don't understand the whole equalizing thing, but seriously I think parents need to thoroughly evaluate if it's a good idea to take their child on two TWELVE hour plane ride.

2) The Urine Squeeze: If you, like me, prefer the window for head resting abilities, you face the difficult fact that you most likely will have to hold your bladder for over 4 hours at a time possibly 6, depending on your neighbors. Of course, there is the obstacle of the sleeping neighbour who you always feel bad waking up and then also the hassle of the obstacle course escape from your seat.

3) The Self Humiliation: On a plane you are degraded down to the worst possible form of yourself. No makeup, no deodorant, no teeth brushing. What do you do if you get gassy? You have to face the facts and try and go for the quietest, SBD fart you can put out there. Then you have to try and control your involuntary blushing reactions. Next, everyone on the plane can see you as you sleep. Luckily for me, I'm not a snorer BUT there are a couple of Chaka's on the plane. So if the crying baby wasn't enough, i now have a cacophony of raspy phlegm swishing to lull me to sleep. And once finally asleep, I wake up every hour to see that I have created a massive pile of drool on my pillow next to me, so even if I had any chance of meeting some cute person on the plane (as apparently people do in romantic movies) I will look like a slobbering makeup free braless wench.

So let's just say after flying for over 24 hours on both my journey to and from Australia, I can say with confidence that I am pretty sure the an airplane is involved in the 3rd layer of hell. Thank you Dante.