They've done it. They've finally done it. I thought it was impossible to innovate a worse flying experience. But Southwest has pushed the envelope with their new in-flight live entertainment.
Generally, I like to fly Southwest. They treat me slightly less like a contemptible dog turd than other comparably priced airlines. But whoever came up with the idea of live music in a sealed metal tube is wickedly demented. Normally, you can escape concerts. If you don't like the band, the sweaty crush of humanity, or the psychopaths in the audience trying to sing (badly), you can grease yourself up with some Crisco and slip your way through the crowds to freedom. Airplanes are prisons. Flying, vaguely-toilet scented prisons. It's cruel to force travelers to listen to some wistful crooner attempt to strum out chords amidst the turbulence, without providing complimentary parachutes.
I'm not saying the music is going to be bad. But it's music. Music is personal. Some people like folk music, others like the screeching of a thousand gibbons set to the beat of a dumpster bin rolling down a steep incline. You can't assume whatever band you hire is going to satisfy the tastes of everyone in a plane. It's as if the only snack option is now tuna salad sandwiches, and even if you hate tuna, the stale air of the plane is now thick with the aroma of tuna. I hate tuna, and I hate compulsory music. You know what in-flight entertainment I really want? Putting on my blindfold, shoving in my earplugs, and eating anti-airsickness pills until I pass out.
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