On the Plane

“Would you like something to drink, Miss?” the flight attendant twanged.

Cranberry juice, please.

“All we have is cranberry apple, do you want that?”

That’s fine.

“Well, you’ll also be getting 59 grams of sugar.” She stared at me, smirking as she delivered this information.

I pondered this. The woman in 30C gasped. “Oh, my gawd. 59 grams of sugar. Can you believe that? Oy!”

I could feel the pressure not to consume the cranberry apple juice. Okay, then, I’ll have a Diet Coke.

The flight attendant nodded in agreement. “Well, you know, I don’t always tell people that. About the sugar. But I looked at you, and I thought, this woman looks like she would want to know there were 59 grams of sugar in one cup of cranberry apple juice.”

As she handed me my Diet Coke, I ruminated on this more. Why do I look like the type of woman who would want to know there is 59 grams of sugar in a drink? Do I appear diabetic? Dietetic? A health nut? Obsessive?