My bowels have never been the same since

Let me just get this review out of my system.

On the way back from our summer road trip we flew American Airlines Economy from LAX to London.

Let’s just get straight into the food.

There was no chicken. They had run out. My partner in crime was horrified to the extent that she was reduced to expleting “THERE IS NO FUCKING CHICKEN” to me while the cabin crew tried to palm off everyone in the back few rows with arse pasta.

The pasta was as if Giuseppe’s shit smeared anus had shaped and infused each piece of pasta. He then proceeded to retrieve peppers and some other vegetables from last nights trash. He made a béchamel with his own piss, dick cheese and dandruff and sold it as an “al fresco experience for passengers in the sky to delight in”.

You may be wondering why I have eaten half of the pasta in the picture. If it was as bad as to be compared to faecal matter then surely I wouldn’t have been able to stomach one bite? You don’t understand, I was starving. I’m a fat bitch and I needed sustinance. The AA terminal at LAX is appaling in terms of food options so I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and our flight took off at 7pm.

The bread roll that they served with the pasta was dry and dense. The ranch dressing was like they had collected all of the male staff’s semen in a big vat over the past year and added some dried mixed herbs and baby’s sick to it. The crackers were as if they couldn’t decide between light and fluffy or slightly crispy so just went for bland and stale instead.

All that sounds pretty bad, but let me tell you about the piece of cheese. My God. There was a delicate cheese triangle on the tray. I don’t mean to sound snobbish, but growing up in Western Europe, it is my personal opinion that European cheese is superior to American cheese. I say this, but I had many a piece of pleasant American cheese on my trip. However, this piece of cheese, sitting on my tray, on my flight back to London, was the devil.

The colour was orange. Like fake tan orange.  The colour alone should have been my warning sign, but like an idiot I proceeded to put a miniscule amount in my mouth. It tasted like one of the air stewards took her heels off after a long day, cut a triangle of hard blistered skin from her heel and let it sit inside her rectum to churn for a week and to get moist. Then it was delicately foil wrapped and served to unassuming paupers flying in economy, like me.

It was simply disgusting.

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