Conspiracy Theories

I'm toast.

I'm not one for conspiracy theories, but-- (I just realized I've written in multiple posts in the past: "I'm not one for conspiracy theories, but..." so that could be proof that I actually am; like how I'm convinced that the ladies who clean the bathroom at work wait patiently for me personally to get up and walk to the bathroom, then right before I get there, set out the "Cleaning: No Entry" sign just so they can watch me walk awkwardly down the stairs to the next bathroom).

Not the point.

I am convinced that airlines have this diabolical plan to render the entire population completely ineffectual, lazy, and useless. It's called business class, and they're just waiting to pounce on your decision to turn yourself into a dependent, completely non-self-reliant individual. I am barely-functional proof of it.

Let me back up. Work flew me to Japan on business class. After being pampered like that, most anybody would say something along the lines of: "I can never fly anything but business class ever again. Anything else would be torture."

I'm expanding that naive perspective to encapsulate all aspects of my life: "I can't do anything on my own again. Ever." Let me give some examples:

1. When I sit down -- anywhere -- I expect someone to be asking me what kind of drink I want as soon as I've settled in. My roommates have been less than accommodating.

2. When I want to go to bed, I swear at whatever piece of furniture I'm sitting in for not mechanically lying flat and doubling as my bed, all in the push of a button. Dragging myself to bed requires too much effort now.

3. Where are my slippers when I come home, roommates?

4. Airline food is notoriously gross and disgusting; usually unrecognizable for what it's supposed to be. But when I'm served food that I don't recognize because it's too fancy, it's a different story. I was worried I would eat the food incorrectly and embarrass myself around all these in-reality rich people. What I now refer to as "commoner food" (burgers, sandwiches, potatoes, etc) is all revolting.

5. 11 newly released movies are not at the touch of my fingers anymore. What is that?!? If I want to watch Beowulf , decide it's semi-boring, and then want to watch Michael Clayton, then go back to Beowulf because I don't feel like reading a book, that is my prerogative. The effort of packaging up my Netflix'ed DVD's and sticking them in the postal drop box is now an exhausting process.

6. Why won't my roommates take my damn jacket, hang it up when I come home, and bring it back to me when I'm ready to leave?

How am I supposed to be self-sufficient again? Stupid airlines.

I will say another thing. Flying business class developed a superiority complex -- all the comedians talk about it, because it is true: You watch those poor saps trudging back to coach, and you feel sorry for them. Class separation in its pressurized, self-enclosed, and finest form.