Adaptation

What makes an otherwise intelligent human being make the choices we make when we fly?

For instance; sitting in a seat that is too high for one’s legs to comfortably be parallel to the floor for, oh, say, 10 hours and to do it happily?

What otherwise intelligent human being would take the idea of eating food that is at best, bird feed, and at worst, 100 year-old landfill?

I receive a meal known to the airline industry as breakfast. It consisted of a quite tasty strawberry banana yogurt and some kind of breakfast sandwich that when opened revealed a meat with puss-like white edges and a cheese that probably looked its best when it was still in the cow’s utter as milk. Upon further investigation, the bread was completely devoid of any resemblance of actually having yeast used in its baking, if that’s what you can call it, baking. Actually formation would be a better word.

You would be right in suggesting other airlines may have better foods, say Air France would have decent cheeses and breads, and wine, but let’s face it, it’s still cheese, bread and wine that you would never eat and drink in a French cafe, or a French home.

But we do it, we do it once, twice, maybe even three times a year or more because we are, if anything, adaptable creatures. If it means I must eat a block of bread and a cheese so colored that one wonders if it was dipped in Cheez Whiz prior to being boarded, then one does so to end up at their final destination, whether it be Paris, San Francisco or Sheboygan. Sometimes it is the destination and not the journey.