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Fly hungry and suffer the consequences After five minutes of chewing, I decided that simply swallowing my bite of "steak" represented the least disgusting option. While spitting it into a napkin held a lot of appeal, the thought of sitting in close quarters with the indigestible mass made choking it down the only reasonable approach. This experience is so typical that making jokes about it has become a comedy cliché. Every standup from Jerry Seinfeld to Carrot Top has spent a few minutes on airline food, and any hack working at the local Chuckle Hut will almost surely throw in a few lines mocking its wretchedness. Except for Indian men who work at convenience stores and perhaps President Clinton's romantic transgressions, airplane food has suffered more ridicule than anything else. Yet despite this public scorn, airlines have done little to solve the problem, and some have made it worse. Though I almost never eat while flying, a combination of canceled flights and poor planning left me hungry in the midst of a cross-country trip last week. I considered waiting until the plane landed or eating my complimentary pillow, but trying the in-flight meal seemed at least worthwhile. My problems likely started when I chose the steak over the chicken. Given the significant price difference between the two meats and the fact that airlines spend somewhere under $3 a meal, picking the costlier one left me behind right from the beginning. Admittedly, the chicken-served in a sticky-looking Hawaiian glop-looked equally unappetizing. Though the stewardess called it a "breast," it seemed as if it had been through some sort of processing followed by a half-hearted reshaping. At least the chicken appeared somewhat less knife-resistant than my steak, which showed little interest in being cut into bite-sized pieces. Though the cutlery provided by the airline was clearly designed to prevent mental patients from hurting themselves, even a completely dull edge should eventually penetrate a piece of meat. After giving up on the steak, my attention turned to the rest of the offerings on my plate, which inspired little confidence. In addition to a salad consisting primarily of lettuce that looked more like a photocopy than the real thing, there was a roll, a piece of cake that appeared to be topped with a slice of American cheese and a packet of mayonnaise. The roll seemed like the safest bet, but despite its residency in a sealed plastic wrapper, it had grown stale to the point of solidity. Since it was too big to swallow whole and biting into it would result in chipped teeth, lockjaw or death, moving on to dessert became the only remaining choice. After contemplating the cake for a few minutes and attempting to guess what type it might be (carrot/cheese?), I decided that remaining hungry offered the best chance for survival. We had only a few hours until landing, and while airport food has problems of its own, the likelihood of finding something I could at least chew through seemed significantly greater on the ground.
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