Take Condiments

Way up high, in the sky.  Three feet from my face is a twelve by six television screen that Shenzhen Airlines provides it passengers.  I’m in the bulkhead with uninterrupted views.  A young couple is on a “wild” (with a lower case “W”) tour of Fiji.  The local people are ecstatic to welcome them to paradise.  Forty percent of the population is of Indian descent but I haven’t seen anything but traditional Fijians. Coincidence?  Not that I’m watching.  Fiji would appear to be all about eating and shopping for shoes.  Are there really shoes in Fiji that aren’t made in China?  Oh look, shop worker of Indian descent. 

I went to Fiji once.  I seem to recall blue and green ocean views that defied the confines of the spectrum, with verdant, unspoiled hills diving down to the sea.  If I were going to make a movie about Fiji I wouldn’t profile the shops in down town Suva, as a reason to go.  But, once again, I am most assuredly not the target audience.  The entire world must figure out how it is they appeal to Chinese sensibilities, if they want to attract the attention of the burgeoning tide of Chinese tourists.  Chinese will be coming now, conditioned to ask for the famous shoe stores of Suva. 

Take condiments.  You wouldn’t be offered a jar of open sauce on United, or Delta. The carefully manicured brands, would labor to embrace a half filled, reusable jar.  I had a fruit cup and juice at airport Starbucks this morning, before boarding the plane.  Happily I took a pass on the Shenzhen Airlines breakfast being offered just now.  Someone at this airline though, had the courage to innovate.  I do fancy this was an individual too and not a committee.  Someone, said “Let’s offer them a jar of sauce.  That will be different and well-received.”  I betcha it went down this way.  

Our Shenzhen Airlines meal cart has an open jar of hot sauce with a spoon sticking out of it.  Stained, dripping, suggesting use over time, it looks just like something from your home.  After the stewardess serves you, she asks if you would like to have a dollop of sauce dropped on the meal you’re pulling the aluminum foil off of.  The gentleman to my left is in his forties, but he grinned and nodded like a seven year old offered a second desert, as she brought the dripping jar before his face.

I had a tea, like I always do.  Stick with what they know.  The coffee will be worse than the bad American coffee it is trying to imitate.  I had a second tea; “多谢.”  But now I’m coughing. I need a third.  Unlikely.  Too bad I’m not in Fiji.  I could be sipping coconut milk.  Our third turb-a-lance announcement of the flight.  One more hour to go, till I’m ploughing through the inner nest-like view of the bone white Shenzhen airport.