The Joys of Flying Private
THE ROMNEY PRESS BUS, SOMEWHERE IN N.H. -- The traveling press corps' two-day blitz across South Carolina and Iowa aboard the Romney campaign plane has come to an end, and the thought of going back to the hassles of commercial flights feels like downgrading from a Porsche to a tricycle.
The best part of Air Romney was probably Ben, our flight attendant. Instead of small cups of water, Ben gave us bottles. Instead of lengthy security checks and invasive pat-downs before boarding the plane, Ben simply asked us to point out our names on a list. And instead of demanding that we turn off all cell phones, Blackberries and iPods before takeoff, Ben merely suggested we do it — if it wasn't too much of an inconvenience, that is.
The one area where the campaign plane was truly lacking was in the food. GQ reporter Robert Draper perhaps described the situation most accurately: "They fed us like wild dogs."
Our dinners were served in plastic containers and consisted of something I would describe as "soggy French fry casserole." The main ingredient in soggy French fry casserole was soggy French fries, piled high. The soggy fries were then garnished with a soggy pickle wedge and a sandwich with soggy bread. Bon appetit.
But all in all, no one was complaining. Romney made two trips to the back of the plane to chat with members of the press, and he even took some time to joke around with us on the tarmac in Omaha. Romney's traveling press secretary Eric Fehrnstrom also made himself available, showing off his brand new wrist brace.
And how did Fehrnstrom injure himself? Was it from slipping on the ice? Or maybe protecting the governor from overly enthusiastic supporters?
No, his injury was caused by excessive Blackberrying. Fehrnstrom's 14-year-old son was not impressed.
