The Delta airlines hummus box

Yesterday we flew to Detroit.  By my sixth trip here, I've learned a few adaptive behaviors.  The first is The Direct Flight.  At it's heart, The Direct Flight from Denver to Detroit is about pain avoidance.  The pain is trying to fit your luggage in an overhead bin not once but twice.  We could fly into Flint, a mile from our hotel, but it connects in Chicago.  Driving an extra hour has somehow become worth more than waiting for everyone else to get off the plane because the only space was in row 29 and I'm sitting in row 13, or the occasional scuffle between yourself and the hothead whose belongings are strewn through the shared bin, and you touched them.  

The other adaptive behavior of note is the hummus box.  You know how airlines quit serving hot meals in the past decade in order to save a few shillings, as opposed to moderating executive bonuses of people who lead their companies into bankruptcy?  Water under the bridge.  

For $6.99, you can get Delta's premium box, shown above.  Seven dollars for a snack would be a lot anywhere but in the airport food economy.  Consider the alternatives:  the same amount for a six-hour old personal pizza, skillet queso at Chile's, or not eating for seven hours.  The latter tends me towards crankiness, especially when coupled with overhead bins.  But behold, the hummus box (clockwise):  hummus from Jordan, pita chips, honey grahams, Nutella, Somersault crackers made of sunflower seeds, lime and tonic, trail mix, and Surf Sweets organic jelly beans.