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USA, Day 0.5: The Philadelphia Cheese Steak Debacle

18 Jun

Okay, maybe I’m cheating a little bit here, but from my point of view, it seems like two days since my last post. A day gone by in British time, then a day gone by in American time.

I’ll be honest, when I was younger, I always found airplane food strangely appetising, and it appears even now, ten years on, nothing has changed. Although a new friend I made in Philadelphia claims that the pasta dish we had was horrid, having gone in with low expectations of what to expect, I loved it, and eagerly awaited my next meal on the flight to Phoenix. A little sad? Maybe. But this is my blog. I’ll say what I want!

Unfortunately, the food situation deteriorated from then onwards.
I’ve always wanted to try a Philly Cheese Steak, and after finding what seemed to be the perfect venue for purchasing this greatly sought after tantaliser of taste buds, I reminded myself that I would be getting another free meal in a matter of hours in-flight.

I would soon realise that was not the case. Getting comfortable onboard this new aircraft, I realised not only was there no in-flight meal, but the woman next to me had purchased the very delicacy I had hoped to acquire for my own consumption.

It was an agonising flight that not even the glowing spread of the city as we touched down in Phoenix could fix. It may have proved more capable perhaps, had I not tried to take a picture out the window, forgotten the flash was on, and hurriedly scrambled to yank my phone away from the window and thrust it into my seat in a fit of embarrassment.

Upon reaching Phoenix airport, and sampling the intense heat that awaited outside the door, me and the aforementioned acquaintance, Abby, found that the only place open and serving proper food was a near-empty Starbucks, with a few turkey sandwiches and fruit pots, one of which she accidentally cast over the floor before she could consume it.

So here we find ourselves, amongst a group of other refugees attempting to find sleep on some awkwardly shaped sofas as the cleaners work around us; not a cheese steak in sight.

Hurry up Oakland.

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Posted by on June 18, 2014 in Travelling

 

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