I called my father the other week to inquire about the quality of food offered on Lufthansa flights—you know, for no apparent reason. I forgot that my father remembers nothing about the food he eats and will consume anything and everything placed before him, so he shed little light on the subject. However, this did not hinder him from giving me the following advice: Before you get on the plane, eat a couple of those Metamucil bars, and then eat a couple while you are on the plane; you'll appreciate it later.
I should have expected as much from my father. I mean, he once had his belongings searched by the police while he was staying at a hotel in India. And do you know the one thing the police found interesting enough to confiscate? A platic ziplock bag that was smuggled in from America and filled with BRAN BUDS.
Sadly, I can't say that I have not packed similarly before. The apple, my friends, does not fall far from the tree.
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