So they have the internets way up in the sky…
As I write this, I am sitting on a plane, 35,000 feet up in the sky with with tray table in the upright and locked position.
And I can be on the internets.
On an airplane.
I’m in seat 17D, and I can see the promised land ahead of me.
The thin veil that hangs in between the first class and the mass class is the widest chasm of all and it shall never be torn. It has the strength of a million, zillion frequent flyer miles and the stinky, stanky stench of those who are thinking “we will get on first and have a glass of bubbly water and look at you back plane people with casual amusement while we peruse our phones and know that we will never, ever have to gate check our bags.”
Up front they have food, they have peanuts, they allegedly have room to stretch out. Back here, with every word I type I ram my arm into the tattooed guy sleeping next to me.
Up there, they have warmed towels, and “would you like another drink?” Back here it is “Take it while you can get it” and a four-month-old American Way with all the puzzles filled out.
It is the land of the elite.
And more than anything else, I want to be up there.