Airplane Chronicles: The Coachella (That Never Was) Edition
As I sit in my standard single-serving airport chair, I think of how I should be ecstatic about the 2013 Coachella Music and Arts Festival…if I were actually going that is. My upcoming days off were requested in the hopes that I would scrounge up enough money for the pricey three-day music pass in time. Thanks to some slight missteps on my part, my car was impounded and I have quite a hefty debt on my hands. Be that as it may, I will not be in attendance this year. So instead of flying into PSP for an alcohol-induced weekend of melodic indulgence with friends, I will be touching down in SNA to take in the sunny yet stifling republican air and catch up with my folks.
In light of the 13-minute delay, I get to enjoy the sounds of my ailing neighbor blowing his congested nose, and his obnoxious munchkin abusing the sound button on his Buzz Lightyear action figure for just a few minutes longer. This is a comprehensive sign I should have taken United Airlines up on their offer for one passenger to take a later flight and receive $200 of- oh my god twins. I’m not sure exactly how wide my eyes became, or how far my jaw dropped, but they both noticed my frozen face and suspended fingers over my keyboard. I avert my eyes as quickly as possible and count down the milliseconds before my face turns beet red. Two attractive identical twins should not be allowed to exist; it’s just not fair (to society or to me).
I attempt to mind my own business and not look up from my computer until my flight is boarding. By this time the sisters have vanished, hopefully not onto my flight to cause me further embarrassment. I file down the unusually narrow aisle searching for 16B, to my surprise there are only two seats on either side of the aisle, looks like I won’t be sitting in the middle seat for once. I crack a smile for half a second until I spot the man I will be sharing my personal space with for the next fifty-five minutes. I wasn’t aware that Andre the Giant had a son, or any relatives even close to his stature. But here he is, overflowing from 16A onto a good portion of my 16B, all knees and elbows.
I carefully sit down in my seat, expecting Andre Jr. to respectfully pull in his long limbs to afford me a bit more space, but he does nothing, hardly even acknowledges my presence. I lean my weight towards the walkway and pull out the latest edition of SkyMall magazine to hold my attention until I can escape to the sanctity of my Word document.
Before I can even hit the double-digit page numbers in the magazine, I have already found some of the most amazing upgrades in quality of products since I last glanced over these glossy pages. The Cube 3D Printer and Solowheel to be specific. Both priced at over one thousand American dollars, I wonder realistically what type of person can both afford these, AND wish to have them in their possession.
The Cube printer is a perfect example of how far we’ve come from a technological standpoint. It literally prints any 3D object you wish to construct, no hands required. The description boats that “anyone from 8 to 80” can operate this printer and with “easy-to-use software” and “additional color cartridges available” this device ain’t messing around. Brightly colored examples line the bottom of the page with everything from a T-Rex head to a yellow skull bracelet. This is literally blowing my mind, and the thought flutters through my head about what will happen to actual artists in the coming years because of advances like this.
Let’s move on to the hilarity that is the Solowheel. If a Segway and a unicycle had an illegitimate love child, the Solowheel would be it. It is a motorized wheel with pedals on either side to place your feet, reaching up to “20 miles per hour on a fully charged battery”. I imagine more people will end up lying on the ground next to this contraption missing their train because they fell off one too many times; instead the text reads “compact and easily fits on public transportation!”
I look to my left and Andre Jr. has clasped his hands together in a prayer-like embrace so I think that will signal my exit. Let my mini vacation begin…sans Coachella…dammit.
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