Don’t you just hate travelling by plane?
Sigmund Freud, in his analysis of dreams, linked flying to sex. Of course, that was in the days when taking to the skies was something safest left to birds; today’s combination of hauling oneself to the airport hours ahead of time, only to sit for ages on the ground in a stuffy steel cylinder waiting for take-off clearance–and not even having the opportunity for a cigarette anywhere in the whole ordeal–is enough to give even Aphrodite a headache. Whoever said “getting there is half the fun” had clearly never spent thirteen hours in a cramped seat stuck between two grossly overweight sisters, one incessantly talkative and flatulent and the other snoring loudly, while a hyperactive five year old child behind you uses your seat back as a kickboxing target and the 7-foot giant leaning back in the chair in front obscures your view of a six-month old movie which, since naturally your headphones don’t work, has taken on a curiously Chaplin-esque air… and that’s without even mentioning the food.
