Peanut butter and jelly before dawn, with many miles still to go.
I was shaking my head as I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at 4:30 in the morning yesterday.
A pbj sounded absolutely disgusting at the moment, and the bread felt cold and dry in my hands. The peanut butter was stiff and stubborn, and as usual the jelly worked its way up the knife and onto my fingers.
I explained to a sleepy Scoobie: “I’m flying to Washington DC in a couple hours, and they don’t give you any food on planes anymore. They might have pbj’s for sale, but they’d probably be, like, $8.”
Scoobie didn’t buy my exaggeration, and went back to bed. I looked at my sandwich, grimaced, and slid a slice of pizza into a second bag, then stuffed them both in my bag.
A few hours with later I pulled the menu up on the plane and saw that yes indeed they sold pbj’s, and they were $4…for a half. So no Scoobie, I was not exaggerating. They do indeed want $8 for an undoubtedly small sandwich which would probably be dryer than an Algerian lint trap.
The wealthy blond lady next to me glanced at my home made food as she ordered another “snack pack” of crap for $12.
They charge you for the TV or movies on the plane too, but they had some free shorts from YouTube, so I put on “Written by a Kid.” I don’t want to give you high expectations, but you should go watch it. Watch several of them.
My neighbor glanced at me again as I shook uncontrollably, and a tear came out of my left eye to slide down my cheek.
As we touched down on the runway in Washington I leaned over to her and asked, in a Scottish accent “Excuse me miss, but can ye see the Statue of Liberty from here?”
I gave her a couple moments to stammer before admitting that I was kidding. She looked relieved.
That evening I met up with my parents, and some friends took us on a quick driving tour of a couple monuments. The Air Force Monument stretches three spikes high into the sky while suitably solemn bronze statues look on in front of a wall engraved with “Integrity, Service, and Excellence.”