The Gloop family is flying First Class to Orange County today.
She wedges herself into the first class window seat as if it’s a fifth grade desk instead of a double-wide. He squeezes in next to her with a nod, an unspoken agreement between us.
I slip the seat-belt extension into his palm like a bag of dope. Perhaps it would help their little problem if it were.
If our nation is losing the war on drugs it’s also losing the fight against obesity.
The meteoric rise of both in our country is tipping the scales violently in either direction, leaving those of us in the middle class to balance them out by pumping taxes into health care costs we see no benefit from.
We’re not being rushed to the hospital to have our stomachs pumped from too many Jack in the Box cheese fries or the crystal meth special cooked on home-boy’s back burner in Alabama.
Maybe it’s time to throw the obese in the same room as the meth users and let this little problem balance itself out so we don’t have to.
BLUSH in a BOX
Let’s add alcohol to this cheery mix of instant gratification. Mr. Gloop wants double Jose, on ice, with a twist. Now–
You can throw a pair of Versaces on a buck-toothed farm boy and he’s still a buck-toothed farm boy.
Dressing up Jose from the sanctuary of first class with your pinky finger cocked from the tumbler doesn’t change the fact that you’re an Upgrade drinking what is at best a $7.99 bottle of duty-free tequila from across the border.
George Clooney could pull that off simply because he’s George Clooney, but I doubt George drinks Jose let alone over ice, with a twist.
Let’s take a minute to discuss that overlooked word that causes a collective shudder among flight attendants–
Upgrade.
FIRST CLASS:
BUTT CHEEKS, BARE FEET and BUTTON PUSHING
We know who you are the minute you walk into First Class in too-short short cheekies, settle into your seat, pop off your shoes and put your bare feet on the bulkhead or worse, your neighbor’s armrest.
Then the signaling starts.
This can be a frantic wave or repeated pressing of the call light although the first class attendant may be, and generally is, within one row of the offender.
A drink is ordered. It could be a beer but not likely. This group paid fifty whole dollars to be considered first class. The last Upgrade I had snootily asked what kind of wine I served?
I answered, “The red is Merlot, the white Chardonnay.”
He replied, “Red and white? That’s all you got?”
I smiled the ever gracious smile, “That’s all most restaurants have, sir. If you were looking for blush in a box, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until you get home.”
He grunted out, “Gimme a Jack and Coke.”
I thought so.
WE’RE GOING to DISNEYLAND!
Across the aisle from The Gloops, their daughter is doing her best to avoid following in Mom and Dad’s footsteps. Poor thing hasn’t even touched her sandwich. She’s picking out the cherry tomatoes from her salad. She must subsist on lettuce alone in order to avoid the futility of her genetic disposition.
Even as I watch, Dad reaches across the aisle and scoops up her plate, upending the leftovers onto his. Oh– now the whole slough of leavings is going to Mrs. Gloop.
I watch the daughter consider them with what she thinks is a blank look but I’ve seen that look a thousand times.
Your parents disgust you, don’t they honey?
Me too.
Next time leave them at home with Jerry Springer.
Five days with Mom and Dad at Disneyland along with the 20-odd screaming children back in coach.
The happiest place on earth my @#$
Loved it!