Wednesday, September 24, 2014

The Entertainment Up Front





I needed the Mrs. to get me a ticket back up home and I could surmise from price on the receipt that it must have been a first class ticket.  That was sporting of her.  It’s not wildly more lucre for the two-hour flight concerned and it certainly is more civilized.  A window seat?  Sure, why not.  I won't be four knees away from the toilet.  Most importantly I can plug in.  Huge, this.  I had a charger crisis last night, which I only resolved shortly before my dash out to the airport.  I didn’t even think to ask if charging is a possibility.  Mid flight, mid China Daily, it struck me to raise the question with the Air China stewardess.  “Sure.  It’s right there.”   And, indeed, right beside my knee are two outlets.  This is an enormous convenience. 

Bayard Lancaster shares a last name with John of Gaunt and my stepdad.  A Philadelphia flautist and saxophonist born in 1942 I have his provocatively titled, 1968 album, “It’s Not Up to Us” sounding out here now at twenty-thousand feet.  On the cover, he’s looking down from a flight of stairs that he is mid-way up the ascent of.  His face is obscured.  I’ve probably heard him before as he plays with Sun Ra, and McCoy Tyner during years I am familiar with.  The title song sounds reassuring and that’s the way I feel, with unlimited electricity at my disposal, the little red battery light in my iPhone has now turned to green.  Mr. Lancaster died the year before last at the age of 72, in a hospice in Wyndmoor, Pennsylvania.

On the screen the first class in-flight entertainment experience is, predictably, no better than what plebs like me, usually endure back in the holding pen. I can cut off the sound but not the ubiquitous screen views. A middle aged Chinese gent in a white collared short-sleeved shirt is leading people through the forest.  Next thing you know, he has a plucked a round green gourd.  Cut to a scene of him impaling it.  What’s going on? I am curious.  Of course, it is the traditional dance of a national minority tribe.  Now dozens of pre pubescent, seemingly national minority-esque young girls are dancing about on stage with uniform green gourds all stuck on ticks.  Who decided this is entertainment?



Now it is time for aspriational ads.  Wow, that car is potent.  Look how it turns and stops just the way the driver wants.  I believe it comes with the girl in the passenger seat, who is very excited to be there.  And now its time for a lengthy segment, shot close up, capturing a bulldog, on a skateboard. This is just remarkable.  I’m fascinated, as he’s gotten off, and then, seemingly of his own free will, the bulldog is back on the skateboard again. 

Pity that we can’t hear the discussion, the passion and the fatigue, in the Air China in-flight-entertainment cutting floor.  Who is the man, I can only imagine it is a “man” who says:  “Yes, we want to have that clip of the chimpanzee pushing a button to receive a peanut.  That is what the modern Chinese traveler needs to unwind.  I hereby decree this is the appropriate level of humor for the modern Chinese traveler.  When contemporary Chinese people take to the skies, on the nation’s flagship carrier, they will, on average, chuckle merrily if they can watch foreigners being tricked by predictable gags where people hide inside of mail boxes and throw the letters back out after they are deposited. 

But wait, it’s only a three-minute clip and now it is time for another ad.  Yes-siree.  The wealthy China man has tipped a boy hawking newspapers and is now in control of a vast business, making decisions for many people.  That’s why he is wearing this particular watch.  How many ads do you need, how many do you think you can get away with, broadcasting on what should be your in-flight “entertainment”?  Does anyone complain?   How long before the great Chinese nation asserts itself that ads are annoying and an ad free environment is a mark of distinction?  How long before people demand that this nonsense be taken from their eyes, in a setting where they have already paid for the so-called “entertainment?”

At least the great Chinese nation is rising up around the distortion of history.  My China Daily informs me in their section “From The Chinese Press” that “TV series on “China’s War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression (1937-45) that have flooded television channels are being criticized for their absurdity.”  This is fabulous to hear.  Apparently the shows, which I’ve complained of before, for their hate mongering, are easy to air as they always get a thumbs-up from censors and hence, provide a crowded field in which ever younger, sexier Chinese girls defeat ever larger squadrons of evil Japanese singlehandedly. The article also mentioned a brave Whitey-Ford-like Chinese solider who is seen to take out a Japanese plane with a grenade into the air.  Articles explaining ordinary people’s frustration about advertisements, or in-flight entertainment can’t be far off.  A self deprecating China’s War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression (1937-45) spoof however, may take time.

I ordered the chicken.  I was offered chicken or pork, the options seemingly no different from the folks in economy.  But this chicken was served with sea slugs, which hadn’t been pitched to me, during the initial inquiry.  I considered the curled up rolls of sea slugs.  I considered the cabbage and the chicken and dove in to those bits.  I avoided the slugs. I could imagine what they tasted like and I figured that Air China’s effort with the slugs would only be so remarkable.  If you’re going to have sea slugs, you presumably want them from some restaurant that specializes in things like deep-sea mollusks and where, minutes before they were sucking the wall of some aerated aquarium.  Right?   The pieces of fruit were fresh. 



Now the clouds are rising toward me as we descend.  Within twenty-five minutes or so I’ll be beneath them, on the ground in Beijing, considering where it is the sun has slumped off to.  I am heading straight out to the Starbucks in the arrival hall for as with the slugs, I avoided the Air China first class coffee.  It wasn’t 酒池肉林[1], but at least no one reclined his or her seat back into my face.  At least my computer is now at 52% charged.  I’ve some things accomplished on this flight and I must thank my wife, for this kindness. 



[1] Jiǔchíròulín: lakes of wine and forests of meat (idiom); debauchery / sumptuous entertainment

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