Miss Ashley Pants

“…and remember YOU’LL BE FLYING IN A SHIT MISSILE!”

My dad always closes his unwelcome pre-flight “itinerary emails” with some version of this phrase. And while it’s true, it’s just one of those things where you’ve heard it so many times from the same person that it simply loses its meaning. Thus, you finally disregard the advice altogether because the person firing it at you in all caps is annoying (wait – is this where the term “I don’t give a flying fcuk” comes from? Platitudes of the traveling Dad?).

But he’s just trying his hardest. Also, he’s right. Which is why sometimes it helps to hear good guidance from a totally different, neutral human. For instance – one who actually works inside these alloy avians.

Enter Heather Poole, flight attendant and author of “Cruising Attitude”.
A recent interview she did on fly hacking had a few cringe worthy confirmations …as well as some new info on the mire in the sky.

Exit rows are the coolest

I’m always stylin in the aisle seats.

But if you want the luxury of extra wiggle room and easy access in coach, you’re gonna pay with chills not bills. Poole explains that because of that seal going down the center of the plane, the exit rows are the chilliest seat in the clouds. I have a simple solution to this that solves everything – in or out of the sky: coffee.

In this case, it’ll both keep you warm and remind you of your commitment to a life of aisle row pimpin’ – when you get up to pee every point five seconds.

Stranger’s blanket, anyone?

(Do you really want to use the same blanket pornography Peter did this morning? At least we can see his hands…)

Although you fellow exit row ballers are freezing, avoid the blankets they leave.

This is where Poole’s interview info clashes with other stuff I’ve heard. Heather claims that if it’s plastic covered, you’re good to go – but that a blanket merely folded in a seat sans packaging is full’a filth.

Eh. I dunno. This bitch right here is sticking with the hoodie. ’cause I’ve heard that even the packaged ones haven’t actually been given the old scrub down by anyone. They just fold that shiz up and give ’em the old Dexter-bondage without so much as a spritz of Febreze.

Even college kids do that much.

Last row is death row (of food service)

The first time you took a plane, you might have felt trolled by the nom trolley. Starting from the back (where the actual meals are), they roll all the way up to the front, and then slowly work their way down. “If you’re sitting in back, you might not get served,” says Heather, “Sometimes they run out of food.”

I can’t say if that’s happened on my flights before or not. Because I don’t order. You wanna know why? Because anything prepared in an airborne cesspool is not going in my mouth.

Trust me, Milton. You’re better off without the E.Coli cake…

Flight flattery goes a long way

If I’ve offended you – and you happen to enjoy ingesting diarrhea fodder – it’s okay.

MissAshleyPants isn’t here to judge. I mean, she totally does – but that’s not what she’s here for. So the best service hack I can offer is probably the hardest thing to follow. After a morning spent on a TSA obstacle course climaxing in the “terminal” illness of pre-boarding boredom, you must disregard the thoroughgoing desire to be an asshole. You must be kind to the flight attendant. He or she will give you extra attention. Also, as I’m led to believe they’re sentient human beings (despite the robotic instruction giving), that’s another reason too.

I suppose.

Diapers for dinner!

Oh, this one’s rich. So you’ve received your nice virus glazed meal with a peppering of poo. Why stop there? You’re going to need to rest it on something while you eat. Can I interest you in a tray table… on which mothers change their crap factory infants?

Bacteria survive on a plane for up to a week. So remember:

There’s only one thing you should request as you’re ferried through the heavens.

(To disinfect anything skin contiguous, if nada else.)