Maiden Voyage on Virgin.

I’m blogging from 30,000 feet somewhere above….probably Kansas. I’m drinking a six-dollar bottle of “vapor distilled water” with “minerals added for taste” out of a “petroleum free bottle made from 100% plants” and watching a Real Housewives of New Jersey Marathon. If i wanted to, I could order an edamame, eggplant, tofu wrap, right from the touch pad in front of me, and I wouldn’t even need to interrupt the Housewives! I’m so “now” it makes me sick.

Sarcastic apologies to all those futuristic humanoid tech-bots out there who aren’t STILL completely blown away by the fact that you can Gchat, blog, watch videos of baby goat stampedes (see below) and hell, you could watch porn in-flight. But seriously, if someone next to me was watching porn I would definitely press that “flight attendant assistance” button next to the reading light. Have you ever noticed that they totally scare you into not using that feature? Kinda like an emergency exit where half the time, I guaruntee, an alarm would NOT sound. Anyways, I feel like pervs watching porn would be an appropriate circumstance for pressing it. I also feel like upon being ratted out, that perv might get citizen-tackled in the aisle, underwear bomber steez. God bless America.

Also—excuse me, but kids and technology is TERRIFYING. I’m having a slight panic attack. ME and technology is terrifying enough, but how about the teenaged brother and sis in my row on their matching Macbook Air’s? About twenty minutes into our flight they gotta whip out the brand-new iPad’s. Macbook on the tray table, iPad in the lap playing some fantastical Medieval war game, that’s how fourteen-year-old’s roll, son! Multi-tasking Lords of ADD! Just wait till those fools hit the workplace. Hide ya kids, hide ya wife. And, apparently, after a stroll down the cabin to the bathroom, four-year-old’s roll in a similar fashion, I shit you not, I literally saw a child who probably just learned how to walk playing Angry Birds with mad skill on an iPhone. Those E-trade babies aren’t such a non-funny joke anymore, now are they?!

Just a quick “novelty” hello from the friendly skies—we’re making our final descent into the Big Apple— but isn’t it comforting to know that flying doesn’t have to be the equivalent of a beige bath mat or a worn down VHS tape anymore? Although, despite the alien babies, day-trading on their iPhones, I’m pretty sure I’m still breathing recycled air from 1988.