The Tarmac -- The plane is ten, thirty, forty-five minutes late taking off. I burn through the eight magazines I toted onboard, and at the hour mark it is time to pop the hood of the in-flight magazine. It shares some profound secrets. New York City: A super fun place to go! Madison, Wisconsin: A super fun place to go! And here, on page 49, I learn that I can buy a pink, purple, or brown airline snack box that contains large blocks of greasy salt that will make my ankles swell and costs $5.00.
Why are we late? The pilot's two scenarios spark off visible thought balloons up and down the aisles.  1) The plane really might weigh 25 lbs. more than it should. (Thought balloons: "Giant poop bomb, giant poop bomb.") Or, the super high-tech weighing device might be toast. (Thought balloons: "Complete technical failure, complete technical failure.") At times like these, it is wise to seep off into the ether and wake up much later at your destination.

Sadly, I am not sleepy and I have no drugs. I try the crossword puzzle. It is slow, inky going. Wandering sadly through the maze of clues, I leave a glistening, snail-like trial of smeared words in my wake. Tilting the fleshy base of my right fist up, I find I have picked up a smattering of tiny, square first-grader letters on my hand. It's a kind of fist haiku-fist-ku. Staring blearily at the clue, "Table scrap, three letters" (ort, ort, ort.I knew it), I peek at the mechanics who are crawling over the wing looking for poop bombs. The two, weak ounces of coffee that slosh around in my belly have left my wits dull and gauzy.

"We'll match the best price!" "The world's largest inflatable Play Pen! Win a complete Dream PC System!" "Ask your flight attendant for a special offer available only when you fly!" My god, what is this candy-colored glossy catalog lurking here in the seat pocket? Bristling with more exclamation points than even the in-flight magazine, it beckons to me. "Idiot! This is YOUR FREE COPY," it screams. So, I pick up and it hijacks me into the scary world of Sky Mall. Sky Mall-where bizarre products peek out through a thick hedge of adjectives. Sky Mall-where the question is not "Who can I buy this for?" but "Who the hell buys this?"

"WOO woo woo.YES!" I hear the jubilant yelps of a pack of slavering, fist-pumping marketing executives. Even from afar, like wolves pointing their noses skyward, sniffing at the distinctive aroma of a distant, fresh carcass, they can sense their victory over me. I have opened the cover. I have looked. "Dude, we can't miss," I hear the dim echoes of their initial pitch to the airlines. En masse, they have all of the tics of your average salesman-85 mph chatter, animated hand gestures, booming laughs punctuated by strange cocaine-like snorts of excitement. "Dude, your captive audience is our biggest asset!" I hear them cry. Damn them.

So, I'm stuck, but I'm going to have some fun with this. For your entertainment I'm going to invite you to play along. You will need A FREE COPY of the catalog. And, you will need to be very, very bored. Let's play ball.

Five Fun-Filled Games to Play with Sky Mall

1. Look for the top five things that you cannot imagine anyone buying. Ever. In the air or on land. Narrowing your list down to the top five will be harder than you think.  Here's my list:
   • Face in the Forest ("Give a tree a personality!"): Trees are dull, dull, dull as is. So, let's decorate them! Choose from five "realistically colored and sculpted to look like tree bark" faces: Smiley, Kissy, Prankster, Max, and Grumpy. Grumpy looks like Ted Bundy, and I wouldn't turn my back on ANY of them.
   • Refrigerator slipcover magnets ("Give your refrigerator a facelift!"): These "high quality magnetic sheets" imprinted with leaves, sunflowers, the American flag, and Santa are supposed to "brighten my kitchen with a sense of whimsy." Do I get my money back if I look at my fridge and I don't feel whimsical?
   • Personalized Branding Iron for Your Barbecue ("Show your guests the pride you take in a great barbecue!): Oh, sure. This branding iron is for beef.
   • Mademoiselle Haute Couture Floor Lamp ("Ooh la la! She's ready to add high fashion to your décor!): This six foot-tall mannequin figure with "sumptuous, black, faux-leather finish" is the crappiest thing I've ever seen sold for $395.
   • Personal Ultra Mini Air Supply: "Lab-tested ionic wind technology projects trillions of air cleansing ions." Personal air supply or not, if I am a large man who has eaten a sizable kielbasa for lunch, my wind will trump your lab-tested ionic wind technology any day of the week. You can run and twirl your little air supply around, but you can't hide.
2. Count up the number of "unique" products. Whoa there. It's an existential dilemma. How can anything be unique if everything is unique?
3. Find the product that has the most adjectives packed into the description. Come on, you can do it. You have the time, and Sky Mall has the adjectives. What's cozy, luxurious, distinctive, super-quiet, and affordable?
4. Pick the five products that, if you opened them as gifts, you would not know what to do with your face.
5. Write a letter to the Sky Mall people using only excerpts from the product descriptions. "Dear Sky Mall: The Phillips Ultraviolet Germicidal Sterilamp®-could it have come from a dinosaur? This compact device, a truly unique experience, produces a gentle whooshing noise that prepares two hot dogs and buns in minutes! Launch it like a rocket, then watch it glide like a hawk! Tone calves, thighs, hips, buttocks, stomach, chest, and arms when you "unleash your music." Sincerely, A Customer