The Friendly Skies

I’m not a good flier.

I’m sure it’s shocking to most, but something about my fear of heights, death and touching strangers added to my anxiety disorder doesn’t make for the best mix. I tend to vacillate between near-hyperventilation, the temptation to start inappropriate conversations with strangers (“Tila Tequila, what a whore, huh?”) and staring into the abyss of my own mortality from the moment I enter the airport until my last flight touches the tarmac.

I’ve developed a series of rituals to deal with this fear. They includes touching the plane before I board, crossing myself on takeoff and landing and listening to the safety instructions every single time so that no greater power decides to strike me down for my arrogance.

Let’s just say that between my panic and having to remember all of the little details that keep the plane in the air (you’re welcome pilots), I find air travel absolutely exhausting.

So, I don’t fly that much. And since I don’t fly that much, I often forget about the one thing I do actually like about planes, mainly, the Skymall catalog. (I actually have so much to say about Skymall, I’m thinking of subtitling this blog “The Summer of Skymall” for the next few months. More on that later.)

 When I first saw a Skymall catalog, I became obsessed with the four-compartment shampoo, conditioner, soap and lotion shower dispenser. I wanted it so badly, I begged my  mother to let me order one for about two years. After all, what high school sophomore wouldn’t love her own wall-mounted shower dispenser, right?

When the darn thing finally came, I was intrigued for about five minutes before it ended up under my bathroom sink never to be filled or used again. (A turn most likely evident of even more of my mother’s wisdom.)

 But, while I may remember the Skymall catalog as being both fascinating and useless, I don’t remember it being racist.

Which is one of the reasons I was so surprised to see a table like this in its pages. What on earth do you think when you spy this in someone’s home? And how do they explain buying it?

“Here’s a coaster, and feel free to put that drink right on top of the Asian man on all fours.”

I just don’t think crouching people are a very good choice in furniture design. And I really can’t see this item going over well on international flights.