I don't mind not getting free pretzels anymore. They tasted like salted wood chips, and anyway it was kind of insulting to be teased with half a dozen miniaturized pretzels in a bag that could easily have held way more. Even if I didn't really like them, it was better than starving. Sort of. I don't miss the free mystery meat meals either. Call me fussy, but I like to know what species I'm eating. And smiling flight attendants? Let's not even go there.
What I miss is leg room. I am all of five feet four inches tall, and when my knees touch the seat in front of me, it's just wrong. I've been lucky enough to be in first class a very few times in my life and it just makes riding back in steerage feel a thousand times worse. That's what they call it, by the way. Steerage. Kind of makes you understand what cattle trucks are like.
Tomorrow I take the first of three trips in the next four weeks. Thank goodness for knitting is all I can say. I always carry the latest TSA ramblings on what is and is not allowed on planes. I highlight the part that says, "Let this crazy bitch have her knitting. It will keep her quiet." So far it's worked. Please keep your fingers crossed for me.