Airplanes

On Monday night we arrived home from a week long trip -- I hesitate to classify it as a "vacation" -- to Africa where our Tim is working for an NGO in an underdeveloped (that's an understatement) country.

Our total of 28 hours of flying time on Air France was an exercise and study in "how much can your bottom take of the most thinly padded seats in what must be the entire universe..."

Now I know airlines are trying to cut corners, but this corner, when sat upon for 9 straight hours, really took a toll on my -- admittedly -- well padded behind.

Surely they could cut something else instead.

Not the space between the seats. When the person in front of me put his backrest down, I found myself spending the time counting the flakes of dandruff float off his head...

Not the width of the seats themselves. Now, after 6 decades of living, the aforementioned well padded behind has also spread slightly. Fitting into the seat itself took some manual -- um -- well, some, um, dexterity.

Not the food. I do like food on airlines, and flying overseas gives us the only opportunity we have to eat on a plane any more at all.

Not the pilot or the flight attendants -- or please, Lord, don't skimp on the fuel. That makes me nervous.

But couldn't we find something else on which we could cut down?

I have it! They give out little boxes with the ugliest little brown sox you have ever seen -- ostensibly to keep your feet warm while they are saving on fuel for heat (evidently pumping it into the gas lines so they can get you to your destination rather than setting down 10 miles short of the airport).

Perhaps they could simply stuff all the sox into the seats for padding?