When you get a premium extra legroom on a long flight, you are instantly reminded of LG's slogan, "Life is good." Well! I paid a premium to experience that prime feeling. However, when I was about to treasure that short-term pleasure, the Casio slogan reminded me, "Expect the unexpected." A baby in the backseat, as if rigidly following Harley Davidson's "American by birth, but Rebel by choice," felt envious of my pleasure in leisure and began to express it with a deafening cry. The helpless mom, trying to be considerate to others and to herself, picked her up and meandered into my cherished, premium leg space as if it was Disneyland's "Happiest place on earth (or was it on flight!). I had no choice but to retract my reveling limbs from my luxury space. The cry now transformed into a mocking smirk on that intolerant infant.
Mother, pleased with her baby's newfound happiness, decided to linger longer than an hour. This procreator and cry creator combination instantly inspired similar pairs on the flight. One after another, I began to savor the Shangri-La with my begrudging benevolence. It seemed my premium space had a Sony Playstation tag: "Live in your world, play in ours." I was made to sit and feel like McDonald's. "I'm loving it!". I could neither evade the child's charming smile nor reconcile with my aching, recoiled legs. I finally had to settle with Burger King's way: "Have it your Way!"
It was time to enjoy the joy of the ocean. As we landed on the island of seafood, vegetarians like me had sea, but not food! The resort's chef had personally handpicked several fallen leaves and decoratively arranged them on a tiny plate sprinkled with drops of dressing.
When asked if there was any other variety of vegetarian food, he promised that he would have grass the next day, perhaps coinciding with lawn mowing tonight. Having had no yummies in our tummies, we decided to venture out to see the creatures of the coral world. After forfeiting my biweekly paycheck for the entrance fees, we zoomed in to the coral park. We were then asked to buy some honey to feed the lorikeets. We gladly obliged and eagerly awaited to satiate the culinary needs of this lorikeet. None came. Environmentalists excitedly informed them that if they were not hungry, they wouldn't feed. We waited. The honey was very tempting since we had just plant leaves for lunch.
Neither birds would have it, nor we could have it. I wished we were standing at the back of the crowd to cherish the nectar, which looked like a loaf of meat for a hungry lion. Social constraints lead to extreme self-restraint.
We then proceeded to the turtle feeding. We didn't realize that they ate carrots, broccoli, etc. It seemed they had a better vegetarian menu than ours at the resort. I offered with the pretext of feeding the not-so-hungry turtles. However, the staff showed no interest, thus depriving me of the option to satisfy my growling stomach. Interestingly, I saw a couple with some enticing vegetarian snacks trying to feed the beastly looking Iguanas. Out of sheer curiosity and bare necessity, I approached the couple and asked where they got it? The naïve couple couldn't remember the place or the name, much to my chagrin. But offered the delicious dessert to me. My face gleamed, and my appetite beamed until my esteemed couple screamed, "Please, feel free to feed the iguanas." I glanced at them as gloom began to bloom and muttered: "Of course, thank you."
As we boarded our long flight back, we couldn't carry food from the airport, as it was small and had no vegetarian options, which was not surprising. We were happy to see the cheese platter on the flight menu. We asked for a platter and water, and the attendant thought it would make us fatter and gave us the latter to shatter the prospect of eating veggie matter. I asked for peanuts, and she explained to me the cost cuts.
My initial hope was great, but as fate had its date, I was left without a plate and continued my hunger state.
