Oh, all right, so she was eating her meat at one table while I dined at another. Never talked with her. Didn't ask for her autograph. Didn't turn and gawk, with slobber dribbling down my chin. Didn't stumble into her table on the way to the head, a lame excuse to strike up a conversation. Didn't ask the wait staff to bring a bottle of vino to her table as a ploy to get her and her party to invite me over. Didn't order ten desserts, trying to kill time, until the "right moment."

But plenty of people did. In fact, the place had the supercharged atmosphere of a political convention. There were handshakes, posturing and pruning, and plenty of smiles. Autographs were signed. Lots of business cards were exchanged. Photographers and lots of TV crews, inside and out. The atmosphere was literally buzzing with electricity. "Fasten your seat belt," I said to myself, "here comes Monica!"

Speaking of "fastening your seat belt," did you happen to tune in to the "Diamond in the Morning Show" this morning? Seems that our intrepid morning team spent the weekend in Puerto Rico with a group of lucky listeners. How nice. But, we learn, Barbara had the plane ride from you-know-where.

"The friendly skies," "something special in the air," "ready when you are;" we have all heard the slogans. The airlines are trying to convince you that it really matters a fig which carrier you fly . You are bombarded with images of huge, silver, aerodynamic airframes, literally floating on a picture-perfect layer of fluffy clouds, warmed by a crimson, unreal, inviting afternoon sun and staffed by a photogenic crew that makes the ensemble from last week's Miss USA Pagent pale in comparison.

Well, I don't know about you, but all the hype about airline standouts is kind of like my experience last Friday night. Lots of hot air, but not worth the ride.

Used to be the food you got was not half bad. Now it takes longer to unwrap the darn thing than to eat it. I'm talking about the food. Get your mind out of the gutter. Some of the beverages are fine. I mean, a Coke® is a Coke®. Never mind you get two drops and a lot of ice. But what about that coffee? Tastes like Louisiana mud laced with stale icing from Monica's graduation. The one thing you can say about the coffee - it's hot! Hot, why, the hamburger-chain-suing-lady would really have an incinerating experience. Burns the living daylights out of your lips. And, if you ever dribble any on your lap; well, get ready to strap on your engines, because you will surely get the unwanted ride of your life. I'm talking about the spilled coffee!

And, ever try to understand what the captain is saying over that PA system? Sounds like Monica with a rag over her mouth. And duct tape over her lips. With a mouth full of hog chitterlings. The only thing you can hear is "flying" .

Never mind I'm spending $1000 to fly to the coast, sitting next to some lucky slob who got his tickets for $363. They gotta charge you four bucks for those pitiful headsets so you can watch the movie! Of course, who needs those things anyway? You can always "watch" the movie for free. Just can't hear the soundtrack. Wish I could've turned off the sound like that last Friday.

We all have our favorite airline lies. For some, it is the "on time" lie. For others, it's the "we will be able to fix the problem in a few minutes" lie. Or the "your luggage will be right out" lie. My favorite is "please fasten your seat belts, we are in for a little turbulence ahead." After that 40-story-elevator-dropping, food-upchucking, heart-racing plunge into that gut-wrenching, thundering and lightning, earthquake-shaking cyclonic storm, you are suddenly eerily floating, seemingly, without the engines, in a tranquil lake of stable air again. Every last ounce of your being has been sucked out of your body.

I'm talking about the ride.