“Water, orange juice, or champagne, ma’am?”
Nestled into my seat with my iPad on my lap, I accept glasses of champagne and water with a smile. Â My (dead) iPhone is plugged into my personal outlet, magazines and my beauty bag sit on the shelf next to me, and my Tory Burch travel sock-ensconced feet are propped up on my leg rest, with my legs stretched.
This, I think, is the good life.
A menu is handed to me, and I mentally select chicken as my dinner entree and fill out the breakfast menu, which I hand back to the attendant and swipe another glass of water from her tray of drinks.
Allowing myself another moment of relaxation, I knock back the rest of my champagne and reach for my notebook and pen, to jot down my airplane to-do list.  Finish development reports, review decks, outline development budget, update editorial calendars are jotted down  on my Moleskine to the ever growing list, and I sigh – too much to do, not enough time.
“Hot towel, ma’am?”
I gratefully accept, both for the refreshment of the steaming towel and for the break from the list. Â Cleansing my face with the towel, I undergo my in-flight beauty routine and put away the list. Â Take-off is soon, and I’d rather catch up on a magazine.
The plane jets down the runway and ascends as I lose myself in the fiction essay in the New Yorker. Â As we climb into the air, I move my seat into a reclined position and finish the story, quickly moving onto an article about a hotly conservative radio host in the South (a fascinating piece, though I staunchly disagreed with everything the subject stood for). Â Once electronics are allowed to be turned on, I grab my laptop from my tote and open it, losing myself into work and the new Best Coast album playing in my headphones.
“Would you like chips, or cashews? Â And can I get you something to drink?”
Though sodium is my enemy while flying, I accepted the dijon-flavored chips and two glasses of water. Â Mindlessly opening the bag and biting into the chip, I resumed work – only to stop when I realized the bag of addictive, mustard chips was empty.
Damn those chips, licking my fingers. Â As the flight attendant made her way down the aisle, I quickly requested another bag. Â She brought me two.
Fingers flying over the keyboard, I wrap up the work outlined on my to-do list. Â With every intention of starting the B list, I glance up and see the flight attendants coming down the aisle with starched white tablecloths. Â Though I’m satiated by my sodium and carbohydrate-filled snack, I figured a salad and grilled chicken would redeem my sinful snacking. Â Dinner is being served, and I stow away my laptop to enjoy my chicken entree with 21 Jump Street – a movie (like most) I had every intention of seeing in the theater, but never got around to. Â I also spot This Means War on the list, and I mentally note to view that film on my second flight.
The excellent meal, complimented with another (or 3) glasses of champagne and the hilarious movie (Jonah Hill + Channing Tatum = movie magic), lulled me into sleep. Â I hit up the bathroom to brush my teeth, marveling that individual face washes and creams were available in the basket next to the sink. Â Teeth cleaned and face re-moisturized, I press the “flat” button on my seat, spread the thick blanket over me and pull on my silk eye mask, and fall into a deep slumber.
The unmistakable clatter of the cart wakes me up. Â Lifting up my eye mask, I squint as the lights hit my tired eyes and blink quickly, my dry contacts uncomfortable after my four-hour sleep. Â I stretch and yawn, hitting the “takeoff” button to move my seat back to its seated position. Shuffling to the bathroom, I quickly freshen my teeth and face and return to my seat. Â A tablecloth is spread across my table, and the breakfast I selected a mere hours before is placed atop it. Â A double serving of fruit, hot tea, and yogurt sit atop a cloth-covered tray, with utensils and a glass of water. Â Quickly eating my breakfast while (still) reading the second book of the Game Of Thrones series, I start to wake up. Â Fueled by the two cups of tea I sip, my mind begins to race, wondering what e-mails arrived during the flight and what I need to knock out during my (short) layover. Â Breakfast tray removed (and another bag of chips graciously given to me by my n0w-favorite flight attendant), I pack my Lo & Sons tote and place it next to my Heys case in the overhead compartment. Â Blanket kicked to the area next to me and flats back on my feet, I mindlessly flip through a gossip magazine as we land, mind still on my to-do list.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Zurich, where the local time is 7:30 a.m. Â We hoped you enjoyed your flight, and we hope to see you on another Swiss International flight soon.”
Oh, Swiss Airways, you will. Â In approximately two hours.
