So I’m on an airplane…nope, not a cheap joke…and I have an aisle seat with two hours and eight minutes flying time in front of me, on a 12 row puddle-jumper. It’s also feeding time. Ever since my raw diet journey, I have times I have to eat, and increments I must abide by. Yes, must, to avoid the wild hysteria that would otherwise ensue. Another side effect of the diet has been appetite regularity. My body knows exactly when it wants to be hungry, and can usually even tell me exactly what it wants to eat. Oh, so as I digress even further, in thinking of how much raw I will hold on to (I currently am still at about 80%!), say I choose to let go. I am curious what happens to the lessons and results? Will the diet regularity fade away, returning me to my previous wild-with-hunger self? What about the great nails and glowing skin? Ugh. More to think about. So the airplane.
Aisle seat, with a teenager to my left at the window, and it was my feeding time. I had some more of the left overs from my fridge–actually, the last of them since I was going away for the long weekend–waste not, want not! Anyway, about a half hour into the flight, I decided to take out my salad I had made for myself in anticipation of this time hours before–avocado, tomato, red onion, olives, some lemon juice, red peppers and cucumbers. Maybe carrots too. When I took off the lid to dig in, I unearthed one of the most pungent smells I had ever experienced. Some may call this the best marinade ever, I choose to be a part of that group. Others, likely my teenage row mate, may call that a nightmare on a plane. It was actually slightly reminiscent of the smell that comes from the salads the little Russian women make–the radishes, tomatoes, and onions with dill. Still, even though I likely created a masterpiece, I scarfed it down so fast I hardly even noticed the taste! Airplane etiquette 101 probably says something about strong odors on board.
So I apologize, 7F, for any discomfort you had to endure. But to my foodie nation, I know you understand, so I also enter a plea for forgiveness! Would I do it again? Well, yes. But would I take the liberty in scarfing it down to lessen the time of offense? Um, actually, debatable. I was thinking after I had finished…really what extra harm would have been done if I had just savored every creamy avocado’y bite. So maybe, I will put out there a standing “I’m sorry”, on behalf of myself, foodie nation, and our Russian lady friends.