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You ever notice how airlines try to make you feel safe? They're like, "In the unlikely event of a water landing, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device." Yeah, because that tiny cushion is really gonna save me from the ocean's fury. I'm imagining a scene where I'm clinging to this cushion, and the shark just looks at me like, "Is that your final answer?" And don't get me started on those safety videos. They act like they're shooting the next Hollywood blockbuster. It's all calm music and smiling flight attendants. I'm waiting for them to include outtakes, like the flight attendant stumbling over the inflatable life vest and accidentally inflating it in her face. Now, that's a safety demonstration I'd pay attention to.
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I was on a flight, and we hit some turbulence. The captain comes on, and with the most nonchalant voice, he says, "Ladies and gentlemen, we're experiencing a bit of turbulence. Please remain seated and fasten your seatbelts." I'm thinking, "A bit of turbulence? Are we on the same plane? It feels like I'm in a washing machine on the spin cycle!" Why do pilots always sound so calm? I want a pilot who gets just as nervous as I do. I want him to come on the intercom and be like, "Uh, folks, we're hitting some rough patches up here. I just spilled my coffee all over the controls. Brace yourselves!
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The worst part of flying is the middle seat, right? It's like being the filling in a human sandwich. You're sitting there, arms pinned to your sides, fighting for control of the armrests with your neighbors. And then the person in the aisle seat decides they need to get up every 20 minutes. I feel like a gymnast, contorting myself to let them pass without causing a mid-air collision. And what's the deal with airplane bathrooms? They're like phone booths from the past. I have to turn into a yoga master just to close the door. And you always end up doing this weird dance with the person in the aisle, trying not to touch them as you squeeze past. It's like a low-budget interpretive dance performance.
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Let's talk about airplane food. I'm convinced they have a secret mission to make the most unappetizing meals possible. It's like a game of culinary roulette – will it be rubbery chicken or mystery meat with a side of sadness? And the snacks! They hand you this tiny bag of pretzels like it's the Holy Grail of in-flight dining. I need a snack that can distract me from the fact that I'm hurtling through the sky in a metal tube! I tried bringing my own snacks once, and the person next to me gave me the side-eye like I was breaking some sacred rule. "Sir, we have peanuts for everyone; you can't just bring your own gourmet cheese and crackers on board." I'm sorry, but if I'm going down in a plane crash, I want my last meal to be more than a pretzel and a cup of lukewarm soda.
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