The package has arrived.

Be careful out there.

Well, I didn't feel like signing any autographs today anyhow. (photo taken at Poquito Mas in Burbank, CA)

That's the conclusion I draw from the fact that there's a seat belt demo unit in the seat-back pocket in front of me.

If I could demo any airplane safety technology to the rest of the passengers, i'd choose the breathing masks that, I'm told, will fall from the ceiling in the event of a MUMBLE. The stewardesses who always demonstrate that device never give a very convinvlcing performance. I think I could better represent the terror that a passenger would feel at such a moment.

"I've pulled and pulled, and the bag just won't inflate!"

I like to imagine that, were the plane to hit an iceberg and begin to sink, the lifeboats would be given to us upperclassmen, while the froshes packed into the rest of the plane wait their never-to-come turn. Like in that movie Jim Cameron made before he went all technicolor and 3D.

All this luxury makes me feel slightly better about having wet cold feet due to Michigan's going away present.

When Ed saw my itinerary, he figured the fact that I was sitting in seat 2B meant I was flying business class. He filled my head with visions of the high life. As it turns out, I was just in the second row of a tiny and semi-cramped CRJ-200.

I'll be posting a new installment in my "Airplane Bathroom Sink Review" series about this Delta CRJ-200. But that'll come later. Right now I've gotta catch my connecting flight to Sarasota, Florida.

"Is that art deco or art noveau?"
 
"Deco. Definitely Deco."
 
Best Matt Dillon role ever, that.