Lace on a Plane

In this world there are things which are inherently wrong. The list is long and varied.  Who knew one of these was a lace shawl in economy class on a European vacation?  Yet here I sit, me and my WIP shawl.  I was going to get a lot accomplished, after all, I have ten hours of sitting, right?  I was going to get at least to the next pattern change. Guess not.

First on the list of "why nots" is the sheer number of people on the plane.  They walk by, they jostle elbows, they squirm.  Heck, I squirm.  Who designed these seats?

Second, evidently my brain goes into a test pattern on a plane.  Yarn over, slip-slip knit becomes equivalent to string theory.  Incomprehensible to my poor brain.  I have often referred to economy as 'cattle class', and apparently it's what I deserve.  Moo.

Third on my list is the service.  I have not flown for a long time.  Okay, a very long time.  All right, Lindbergh was the pilot on my last flight, okay?  I had heard horror stories of starvation in economy.  Evidently things have gotten better, or passenger abuse has not filtered into Delta because so far we have been served drinks (free wine and beer, even for cattle, yay!), lunch, more drinks, duty free, water, a snack, water and more water.  Right now. the breakfast trolley is on its way.  I know I fit this seat when I sat down in it, but will I be able to get out?

I have sat here, in this seat for eight hours.  I have finished one row.  I have written this, and I have questions.  How deep are the sock yarn and double points buried in my carry on?  Can I bend my stiff, sore, fat self far enough to extricate them from under the seat in front of me?  Why do I get stupid on a plane?  Is it the altitude?  Lastly, what am I going to do with all the peanuts and granola bars in the bottom of my pack?