Having crisscrossed the country over the last three weeks, with a travel schedule apparently formed by what would be decidedly least convenient (to wit, going to New Orleans from LA via Atlanta and back to LA via Atlanta after an unscheduled night at an airport Ramada Inn (pictured above in all its glory!) where The Monster was certain he was eaten by bedbugs and mites and numerous other hungry critters to spend a day at home before traveling from LA to Florida for three days to return to LA for twelve hours to then turn around and fly to Boston for two days) The Monster has had his share of heat-lamp slogged airport food and boxes of inedibles with inane names like “Flight Delights” and “Protein Meal.”
Is it that hard to serve something that even resembles food when trapped at thirty-five thousand feet beside a person who doesn’t get the hint that conversation isn’t in the offing.
How many times must one be offered peanuts and pretzels and lunch served without utensils in a cardboard box (at $9 a pop no less) until the collected masses rise up and shout “never again!”
Why have we not demanded to be fed something better than craisons and processed lunch meat slathered in Mayo? It is not kosher to serve fruit in a container that must be peeled open nor does it comport to offer anything that must be squeezed out of a plastic tube.
Perhaps one would be mollified if the selection of airport food consisted of more than Sbarro’s sorry excuse for pizza or a wittily named Chinese food chain that serves up MSG and heart attacks.
And as for you annoying person with lots of questions who won’t take the hint, there are two options. The Monster feigns sleep or kills him and takes his pop tarts.