Sometimes flying feels like you’re in prison in Hungary or something. You shuffle through all these slow-moving lines with a bunch of other silent, surly prisoners. Huge amounts of time are spent waiting for some hostile security officer to check your papers. Then you repeat that whole process all over again in a different place.
At various stages, you get blasted by streams of hot or cold air. Irritating, high-decibel announcements periodically drone over a shitty speaker, followed by some shitty canned music. Eventually you might fall asleep sitting up, slumped over in an uncomfortable position, only to be constantly awoken by service carts banging your elbow, or running over your foot, or by faceless personnel demanding that you complete some poorly-designed form…or by a sudden shaking of the cabin, or by some super-loud synth tone. I guess all that’s why God invented Xanax.
I bet the prisoners in Guantanamo didn’t get any Xanax, but at least they got to hear a lot of Slayer and Megadeth.