When the vegans tried to commandeer the skies and forced me to join them

I’ve been genuinely impressed with the German airline Lufthansa on this trip to Canuckistan. Amongst other things, their flight attendants were uber-friendly and funny to boot, always ready with a tongue-in-cheek response for this cantankerous traveller. I don’t think I’ve been this impressed with flight attendants before. Ever. 

And the slick show they choreographed with the service carts was something to behold. The drinks’ trolley went first and performed a deft pirouette into the narrow corridor between bulkhead and bathrooms as the food cart rolled by. Out twirled the first into the emergency exit area to let the true star of the show – the svelte hot drinks and dessert trolley – into the wings. And so they went throughout the serving shift – a pirouette here, a je ne sais quoi there. What would be a traffic jam on any other airline was the most precise, calculated ballet by the Germans. 

Some of the trolley-twirling flight attendants: Sophia, Sophie, Sophie and Schuyler. *

I had to get that off my chest before dealing with the elephant on the plane: the gluten-free food. Some people think I’m just being picky, with my mostly gluten-free diet. Others laugh at how often I cheat with said diet. But the truth is, I hate being gluten-free. I long for all things gluten-packed: pizzas, freshly-baked rolls, pasta, beer, carrot cake … I could fill my blog post with things I miss but that would do no-one any favours. Ever since I had that pesky Malagasy black mould growing in my chest, gluten and yeast have affected me by producing extra mucous, which makes it feel as if I’m drowning … And when I fly, especially, I’ve found that I can’t cheat, otherwise the journey turns into what feels like a drowning drama on the high seas. 

But here’s the thing. In order to save money, I suppose, the airline lumps all the weirdo gluten-free, low-sodium, no-lactose, no-flavour and vegetarian meals under the same umbrella: the vegan one. 

If you’re vegan, good luck to you. I’m not. Already I have to deal with the dense, dry GF breads, but I, personally, like my meats, eggs and all things artery clogging. So, when I was served vegan dishes between Munich and Vancouver I longed to launch a rebellion to rival the French Revolution. Marie Antoinette‘s “let them eat cake” had nothing on the indignation caused by “let him eat vegan.”

But I was fighting solo: a fight I had no chance of winning without fellow rabble-rousing vegan-food-haters brandishing their plastic cutlery to back me up. 

The moral of my story? if you plan on having me around for tea or a meal, please don’t follow the last French queen’s plea and let me have cake, even if it’s gluten-free. And please, pretty, pretty please, don’t use the Lufthansa recipe book of “special meals” either.

* (Of course, I made that up but I had you going for a minute, didn’t I?)