I’m sitting in a peon-class seat (42C, way in the back) on a Delta red-eye. Midnight departure, arriving at JFK a little after 8 am. If you buy a Delta cheap seat you have to be down with being politely humiliated with a smile. It’s like riding on a chicken bus from Belize City to Playa del Carmen. You just have to adopt a Zen attitude and accept the bargain-basement reality of what you’ve paid for and who you are in the eyes of Delta employees. I don’t expect to “enjoy” the flight — I just want to get through it. In the words of Sterling Hayden‘s psychotic Air Force general In Dr. Strangelove, “I think I can.”