Hungry for the Good Old Days — I'm willing to wait in long airport security lines without a whimper and submit to wanding by a guy who seems to enjoy it a tad too much. They can take my nailclippers and just about anything else they want — all I ask is that they give me back my in-flight food service!
With all the losses we've had, the elimination of those strangely square omelets and Salisbury steaks shouldn't even be up for discussion. But when I recently found out the hard way that food service had been suspended on (many) flights from Boston to anywhere east of Bora Bora, which unfortunately was not my destination, I was seriously perturbed.
Why on earth was I longing for those limp green beans smothered in brown sauce, that dab of reconstituted mashed potatoes, that square of yellow cake with white frosting like I used to get at the elementary school cafeteria? I guess it's because to me, airplane food is comfort food — it's the same starchy, lumpy, salty stuff I consumed back in the good old days when my biggest worry was whether my mom would insist on cutting my hair again, not what that strange-looking guy across the aisle is doing with his glasses case.
I know it's just a little thing, but as every meeting planner knows, sometimes the smallest things can make the biggest difference.
Sue Pelletier executive editor, firstname.lastname@example.org