Recently in Flight Blogs Category

This past weekend, I took a lovely little jaunt to Chicago, and while I was busy doing work on the flight there, I made sure to reserve the return trip for some good old fashioned flight blogging, or flogging as I call it. Anyway, I've just concluded a long, arduous day of traveling, and while my celebrity sightings weren't as good as my friend Jash's (he took a flight to NY this weekend and sat next to Usher, or something like that), hopefully the addition of an Arkansas layover will spice up the festivities. Okay, it won't, but like poker, sometimes you gotta play your low card and hope for the best.

The whole sordid affair after the jump...

Sights from the Airport Lounge

Well, here I am, about to depart for yet another flight, but unlike other flight blogs, or flogs, this one is special. I'm not headed to the sunny climes of Los Angeles. Far from it. I'm flying off to the mysteriously inviting world that is Eastern Europe. That's right, I'm jet-setting off to Prague, and I couldn't be more excited. This will be my first ever international flog. But even better, I'm flying Business Class — also a flog first. This should lead to a whole new level of fascinating observations.

The action should all take place momentarily. I'm slated to board in about t-minus seven minutes, and as this is the first time I've flown Lufthansa, I'm quite excited. I've spent the latter part of the past hour sitting here in the Business Class lounge, which technically belongs to SAS, not Lufthansa, but that's okay. I'm open to all countries and their swanky lounges. As you can imagine, this one has a high number of flaxen Danes and Swedes present. I thought I had spotted three or four German hausfraus, but alas, upon further inspection (ie. the newspapers they were reading), I'd have to place them somewhere in the Oslo region.

When I haven't been doing any ethnic sleuthing, I've been snacking on the wide array of breads, cheeses, and cookies. I thought about boozing it up too, but quite frankly, I just didn't feel like it. Instead, I've merely focused on the food. I've already gone back for seconds (the sesame bun was a mid-afternoon delight — especially when paired with an ample helping of herbed cream cheese), and I was quite happy to discover a huge selection of nicely arranged Pepperidge Farm cookies. Milanos? Don't mind if I do!

Well, I should probably close up shop now. Perhaps there'll be an update in Frankfurt. See you in many hours...

The view from my seat.

Ahh, it feels like it was just last week when I last wrote a flight blog, and here I am again, busting out the laptop for more airborne commentary. It's time to leave the chilly climes of the Northeast and return to the sunny, temperate weather of Los Angeles -- Burbank Airport, specifically.  After a whirlwind weekend of wedding activities (and snow), I've found myself back at JFK, sitting in the JetBlue terminal and waiting for this alleged wireless hotspot to kick in.  You see, despite my laptop registering a full four bars-worth of connectivity, I'm unable to access the World Wide Web.  A quick polling of my nearby laptop neighbors reveal that they too have been similarly and frustratingly cockblocked from the Internet.  Sadly, this isn't the first time this has happened.  The last few times I've flown out of JFK, I've noticed that the wireless hotspot has been anything but.  I mean, yes, it is a spot, but it's hardly hot.

So without internet access, I'm stuck here observing my surroundings.  The terminal is packed, I should note.  I think I saw someone from Bunim-Murray at the food court.  I don't know his name, and I never interacted with him when I was working there, but I'm fairly sure he's a producer or something.  I also saw a woman watching Juno on her laptop.  I guess she had a screener.  WELL.  Two can play at that game, lady.  Maybe I'll just pop in MY screener of Atonement.  Actually, I won't.  It's entirely too early in the morning for a delicate British drama.

Lastly, I should note that some guy full-on farted at the security check in.  It was nasty.  So nasty that one of the security guards asked another loudly, "Juan, did you pass gas?"  She then fanned her hand in front of her face.  Whoever smelt it dealt it, right?  Rest assured, it wasn't me (despite my making the rhyme, which means I therefore did the crime.  Although, now I've denied it, which means I've also supplied it.  Damn, I'm really making a bad case for myself).  Nevertheless, the lack of usable internet access mixed with the toxic clouds of ass emissions has made this morning in Terminal 6 slightly unpleasant.  That's okay though.  I actually have real work I have to do, which means that while I'll check in periodically to give updates on the flight, I won't be as fastidious with the blogging as perhaps my trip out [ed. note -- this proved to be a lie].  Plus, there's also the very real possibility that I may conk out mid flight (only got like two hours of sleep last night).  So now we're all updated and happy, yes?  Good.  See you in the air.

Oh what a week. After having made an auspicious paparazzi photo appearance a few days ago, I knew I had to somehow maintain the (VERY real) image of my fast-paced Hollywood lifestyle, and what better way to do that than by jumping on the latest plane out of Burbank and jet setting to New York City? Yeah, I'm that cool —  I fly across the country just for the hell of it.

Okay, okay. I didn't fly across the country to look cool. I came to New York for a wedding. And I flew on the rather unglamorous (but still wonderful) JetBlue. So as you can see, my pseudo-glitzy image is in much need of bolstering (and mark my words, it WILL be bolstered some day). In the time being though, I'll do what I do best: writing a transcontinental flight blog. Or as I call it, a flog. Good times to be had by all, I'm sure.

As you all know, I definitely appreciate a good airplane story.  And when it comes to stories, very few can match Dave Sedaris in the humor department.  How convenient then that in this week's New Yorker, the acclaimed writer takes on that most vaunted of experiences:  a trans-atlantic flight red-eye.  Unlike my flight blogs, which have all taken place in the sprawling pandemonium of coach, Sedaris documents the joys and inconveniences of Business Class Elite, an entirely new and dainty beast.  It's hilarious.  I particularly enjoyed his follies with the armrest control panel (an error, I might add, that I would NEVER make)  Thanks to Zoobabe for the link!

•  Journey Into Night [The New Yorker]

WELL HELLO.  Welcome to my new blog.  It's sort of a work in progress; so excuse the mess.  A few weeks ago, I decided that I was officially going to start blogging again, and what better way to mark my triumphant return than by engaging in one of my favorite pastimes of blogging yore:  the flight liveblog.  Or perhaps, the flightblog.  Or better yet, the flog.  

Yes, for the first time in what felt like years, I decided to pull out my laptop on a flight and blog the entire thing.  At first, I wasn't going to do much — just dip the toes in the proverbial waters, if you will.  Why bother doing all this work if I didn't even have a blog set up?  But when I found myself detailing the assorted highs and lows of sitting amidst a celebrity and an awful, awful family, I knew I had to find me some real estate on the Internets.  One thing led to another, and after much brainstorming/annoyingly questioning friends to no end, I decided upon this here domain name, and the rest, dare I say, is history.  Well, maybe not history.  It's a bit presumptuous of me to act like this blog is history-worthy when this is in fact its very first entry, but IRREGARDLESS, I now have a home for my flight blog (flog), and so without further ado, I present to you my first official blog entry...