PHOTO COURTESY | Jason O’Halloran
Prepare to take off — take a load off that is.

Airplanes are a balance between being free as a bird and living in a fish tank. Claustrophobia aside, the food is basically the same and neither feel clean. The point is there’s plenty of room for improvement.

Well, I’m an opportunist. Just ask whoever ordered that pizza I paid the Domino’s guy for. I can’t pass up the chance to repair an industry, and so I’ll give you the first airline that doesn’t make you miss the ground: Gloe-ing Up Airlines.

The key to our airline is that we deal with the big issues our competitors won’t tackle. We’ll buy the real TV dinners instead of the airline brand ones.

We’ll hold our security and employees to dangerously low standards for your speed and convenience. The biggest, baddest, all-around saddest issue on airlines though? Screaming children.

On our Gloeing 747s, the back eight rows have been walled off and converted into a children’s playroom. The children are ushered into their pen at the start of the flight, where they can enjoy all of the amenities needed to ensure fun and safety. The door will then be closed, locked and barred not to be opened until you are on solid ground. While teaching the little tykes independence, it gives you some well-deserved peace. If a three hour “Lord of the Flies” type situation happens to arise during the flight, well we’ll deal with that in Houston now, won’t we?

I mean, just look at the clientele you already deal with. You’ve got the senior citizen, who very politely asked for the aisle seat and yet has no idea how to handle rejection. You have the guy laying claim to your armrest and sees legroom as a communal space. Why shouldn’t you partake in a two-and-a-half star movie without hearing about how little Timmy left his graham crackers on Mother Earth? Good thing you’re in the heavens because he’s screaming like he’s gonna meet his maker.

It’s not like the mom is happy about the situation. There are a lot of reasons I’m not a parent and even more reasons I’m not a mother. Still, I can try to put myself in their shoes. I imagine bringing a child in public is like carrying around a sack of potatoes that cries about sugar and unknowingly tries to kill itself 24/7.

Everyone’s looking at you because what are you doing? Why did you choose to drag around a sack of potatoes? They’re not carrying sacks of potatoes because they’re normal people. They have no idea what it would be like to be a person who would willingly carry around a sack of potatoes that won’t shut up about Dinotrux, whatever the hell that is.

Well, what other choice do they have? Are they to just sit at home with nothing but a dumb sack of potatoes that’s once again trying to lick an outlet? They don’t even make great conversation. What’s more, stupid Donna is getting married. You can’t just leave the potatoes in a dog kennel (trust me), so the potatoes need to be on the plane, even if it makes you stand out or feel ostracized.

Dragging that thing around has got to be tiring. Sure, they choose to do it. They love their stupid sack of potatoes. It doesn’t change the fact that they are at ground zero for every tantrum that makes your life hell for a while. Not only that, but they live in that tantrum. They eat, sleep and breathe that tantrum.

So next time your on a plane or a bus or really anywhere considering the legal and social implications of screaming at a stranger’s child, try to remember their parents are trying their best. You might feel a bit better about the situation, but you’ll still have no idea what the hell Dinotrux is.