Three hours into a flight from hell, a Meerkat Gang Sculpture is starting to look pretty damn good. In fact, I don’t know how I ever lived without it. What's happening to me? Who am I?The trip starts out okay: I’ve taken my Dramamine, and I’ve got snacklets, an aisle seat, plenty of reading material, my iBook, and some sort of craft project.
Then it all goes to shit.
The seats are too small to pull out my laptop or knit, let alone stretch my legs. The guy next to me smells like 1969 and the overhead vent is not assuaging the stench. The three year old behind me is taking great delight in kicking my seatback while crying without pause. I plow through my rag mags in short order. Clearly, there’s nothing left to live for…so I pull out the SkyMall catalog.
When, at 30,000 feet, I think I've hit rock bottom, things gets worse. I feel very 1993 Franklin Covey as I contemplate a framed print of a Zen garden. Ooh, where do I swipe my card? Oh wait, here’s a light therapy system! For only $399.95, I can make my frown turn upside down in rainy Seattle! A plantar fasciitis kit? Now you’re just freakin’ my shit out, SkyMaul—you’re reaching into my soul and uncovering my deepest desires. In fact, I think I just might— Holy fuck, a watch winder! If only there was an automatic piehole feeder and a bum wiper, I could just throw in the towel.
Before I give up on life and go down the battery-operated rabbit hole, I need to do one last thing: unleash a can of whoop ass on this twisted love child of QVC and Lillian Vernon. A few repurposed items should do the trick.
I don a Doolittle & Loafmore sweatshirt and LED lighted safety glasses and get to business. I collect a plane's worth of DieMall catalogs in a NFL hammock. I heap them into a copper fire pit and crumple up a wall-size crossword puzzle as tinder. With my Swarovski lighter, I torch the hot mess. No number of indoor hoses and plant waterers can help you now. Go back from whence you came, demon catalog, and take Hammacher Schlemmer and its schtupid name with you.
But leave the snow cone cart.
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8 comments:
OMG Jennifer! Earlier this month Dean and I entertained ourselves on an AA flight (and not the alcoholic flight but it should have been) laughing maniacally at the SkyMall catalog. We couldn't decide if wanted the garden sculpture that looked like a crazed Bigfoot or the Bra Ball, a handy dandy little contraption to wash your bras in! I'm jealous you found so many great things...
True all that. The scourge of every frequent traveler.
Sky Mall has provided me many hours of mindless entertainment on my many trips to Las Vegas. I look forward to seeing the many products that will enrich the lives of me and my close friends especially during our outdoor romps around my pool containing the ginormous floating island featuring a cocktail station. Perhaps you are just angry I didn't invite you to join in a perfectly cooked hotdog and toasted bun combo created by a Sky Mall purchase. Next time Jen, next time.
I confess I secretly want it all.
Eight coats of piano lacquer? Pretty swank for a watch winder. I MUST have it even though I don't wear one. Love Skymall, love this...
The watchwinder seemed like a cool gizmo until I realized it was available only in Burlwood finish. I once owned a picture frame and a recipe box both made in burl-something, and each time I caught sight of them I imagined an animated snowman hawking iced tea that "doesn't get cloudy". So now I have a rule against having any more of it. Call me OCD.
Jonathan Coulton has a song called "Sky Mall" that's very funny. You should check it out sometime.
That meerkat sculpture is the best. I think the air industry's strategy is to turn down the oxygen so you'll like the stuff. It's totally a guilty pleasure.
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