Airplane Snack

A quick note: for those of you who wonder what sort of snacks are served on Chinese airlines within China, the answer is simple: crap. Sometimes it's a cup of instant noodles (usually seaweed flavor) or rice with a side of congealed chicken meat and fat flavored with soy sauce and salt. If you're lucky, you get a breakfast which consists of a bundle of aluminum foil tossed on your lap which contains an extremely good hot flat bread, made of whole wheat, and stuffed with the scrap ends of pig. Don't shudder, once you spit out the gristle it's very good eating. Far too often the snack---pronounced "snake" around here--is three pieces of white bread with a single piece of florescent pink pressed meat by-product resting lightly on a two-millimeter wide stripe of fake mayonnaise. Last night a new low was reached: the flight attendant heaved a foil-wrapped bundle at me and I drooled, happy thoughts of the whole-wheat flat bread in my brain, and I opened it to reveal the most unlikely scenario ever: pigs in blankets. One pig, one blanket. One smoke-flavored hot dog, charred and yet flabby, indifferently stuffed into a fluffy white bun. No mustard, no condiments, no taste, no hope of reprieve. How hungry was I? I ate it. I didn't even save the meat for the dogs. The Chinese have the reputation (usually among themselves) for being gourmets with a 5000 year old tradition of exquisite cooking, blah blah blah. And yet--they eat this pure crap without a single murmur and some even asked for more. Of course, the men doing the asking were the same macho idiots who spring to their feet the moment the plane touches down and start rummaging in overhead compartments. Five did this yesterday: a flight attendant made a couple of ineffective shrieks at one and then gave up. Within twenty seconds of landing--while still taxi-ing at a furious rate across the tarmac--ten people were lined up in the aisles, pushing and shoving, determined to be the first off the airplane. Six carried leftover Pigs in Blankets. My seatmate had vaulted over me--crotch in my face--shouting "I Impotent Men!"--perhaps as his excuse for getting into the overhead bin. I wished a malevolent wish that my suitcase would bonk him on the head but no such luck... perhaps some people really are Lucky Guys and if I were impotent hell yeah I'd try to make up for it by being first off the plane. The ones off first were Important Indeed and I am sure everyone was suitably impressed when they texted before the all-clear, thus endangering everyone, extra Pigs in Blanket in hand. From the rich, you can learn how to save money: from the Chinese traveler, how to be a complete ass.