Up and Up Away to the USA

Dear insansapinas,

We learn by example and by direct experience because there are real limits to the adequacy of verbal instruction.

The cabin of the carrier is much bigger, more seats--three rows, three seaters for the right and left sides and five or was it six in the middle?

I got the window seat at the right side. The steward helped me put my suitcase inside the overhead compartment. No remark, just a grimace of pain and a little smile. Very pr-ish indeed.

I hoped that my seatmates would not make it. Evil thought. bwahaha.

Every time, a passenger walked towards my direction, I wished that he/she would get past me.
But almost all the seats were taken except those two on my left.

A big man in his late fifties came striding with his carry-all bag.He was fat with gold rings, a gold necklace with a gleaming gold medallion draped around his neck.

He looked at the seat numbers.
He stopped, he exhaled and picked up his bag and thrust it in the still open overhead compartment.

Then he talked with a voice that was a cross of those of Morgan Freeman and Franz Drecher. I raised my brows, asking if he's talking to me. Yes, to me. He asked me if we can exchange seats. He liked the window seat. He wanted to see the view. What view?
The cumulus, the cirrus or the stratus clouds?

I felt charitable that day. For me K is kindness and I was kind to trade my seat with a grown-up man. I dismissed the thought that if, that is if the plane comes down and the passenger will be identified thru their seat numbers, I hope that my friend did not think that I was some closet kind who hid from them my real gender. *heh*

When the food carts started rolling and one of them hit my elbow --so hard that I thought the spirit of my arm had near death experience, I thought I saw the man by the window
with a naughty grin in his face. Damn, he must be a frequent flyer member that he knew the
notoriety of some stewardesses.


They teach the passengers to keep their arms away from the aisle--the hard way. Bump and ignore them as if they did not see.

"Beef or chicken?" asked the stewardess.

While I was still massaging my arm which was a victim of reckless driving of some stewardess, I asked if the choices are only limited to two.

My left brain asked my right why is there no pork in the menu?

My right answered with the following possibilities:
1. all passengers have high blood pressure
2. because of religious affiliations
3. there was a boycott of the long snout four footed animal that produces bacon.

I should have called them to order a vegetarian meal. I was no longer a vegan at that time but I had this bad experience in one of my trips abroad. The beef was so hard that I like to make a side order of a pick ax to slice the meat.

About the chicken, I was invited to so many going away parties where chicken is the favorite
dish since they are available from Max, or from Kentucky.

When my nephews and nieces came to say goodbye, they brought lechong manok. My nephew was just learning how to walk offered me the drumstick. Aww, I can not afford to tell him that another serving of chicken and I am going to fly.


So don't mention to me the word chicken and I will go berserk.It reminded me of a cousin/nanny who fed me with a lot of chicken by telling me that when we go home to the province, we don't have to take the bus. We'll just fly.



Beef or chicken,ithe stewardess repeated the question.

Pinaysaamerika