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You’re stuck in a confined space, suspended 30,000 ft in the sky, with nothing to do for the next nine hours. Airlines try to accommodate you to the best of their abilities for spending a small fortune on their dangerous transportation. There are TV screens with all the latest mind-numbing releases to keep you distracted so you stop pressing the “call” button for the stewardess. As we’ve learned though, the screens are really there not to rob you of watching your plane on the news for four hours in case one of its landing gears doesn’t ascend as planned. There are radio stations so you can pick soothing meditation to match your elevated state like a true yogi. Meals are provided which only work for those who like to stuff their face when they’re nervous and those who’re also sitting on their neighbors unbeknownst to themselves (the airlines conducted surveys and decided those two categories of flyers have the most frequent flyer miles and to hell with everyone else). Alcohol is served to take the edge off and better assist you with finding and making it to the nearest exit in case of an emergency. There are also overhead compartments so you have some leg room and supposedly if they’re tightly shut nothing falls on your head when you least expect it, since that’s the primary concern if the plane takes the occasional nosedive. The instructional video informs of the oxygen masks to play with (remember to secure your own first) before you wake up your neighbor and start attempting to plaster one on their unsuspecting face “just in case”. Broom closets are being passed off as bathrooms to empty whatever has accumulated in the past six hours of sitting in cold sweat. Good luck making it directly into the dwarf toilet with the combination of turbulence and alcohol (I feel sorry for the last person on that line who gets to enjoy the aromas of accumulations of all those ahead of him). There are seat belts  (most ilkely used instead of straight jackets because it’s assumed we’re all mental patients/terrorists), only to be taken off when in line for the broom closet. I say stuff those waiting in line into the overhead compartments so they don’t fall on our heads. The flight attendants are supposed to be at your beck and call (unfortunately they do everything in their power for you not to bother them). Basically you’re sitting there strapped to your tiny seat with the oxygen mask on, stuffed, drunk, and afraid to get up and use the bathroom because the all-powerful captain hasn’t turned off the seatbelt sign. Have a pleasant flight!