Thoughts from an Aer Lingus flight (yes, in flight mode)

Has anyone ever gone to Fitzpatricks Hotel in Manhattan on the basis of that advert that has been running before in-flight movies for seven years? I fast forward even though sometimes I go too far and end up far forwarding in to my movie. Which makes me resent Fitzpatricks even more.

I know it is essentially the same as closing your eyes but those eyemasks would make me feel vulnerable – like I’m more susceptible to attack from an assailant.

I know they charge you for alcohol but you could break even on soft drinks if you approached the galley from different directions and maybe adopted a subtle disguise or two.

I’m pretty sure the plane they show on that satellite map isn’t to scale. It’s the size of Luxembourg. This is especially disorientating if you are flying to Luxembourg.

Look at the size of those toilets. Never mind the Mile High Club, I’m not sure you could even sign up for the Six Inch Society in there.

The trip statistics they provide – altitude, tail wind, ground speed – are all well and good, but are of no real use to me. Seriously, you could tell me the outside air temperature is -2 or -200 and I’d believe you equally.

Rory McIlroy makes me feel like shit when he tells me that I can save a kids life by simply giving some crappy change that I find in my pocket or luggage. Imagine the good I could do by not even taking this holiday in the first place. Way to ruin my trip, Rory.

The No Smoking signs indicate that, at some point, someone thought smoking on a plane was a good idea.

Bye. Bye. See ya. Bye. Bye. See ya now. Bye. Bye now. Bye. Bye. So long. Bye. Bye. That shit must get very repetitive.

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