A prayer to Mercury, god of the frequent business traveller
Fickle, swift, noble Mercury, god of the messenger, the roadway, and the frequent business traveller, hear my prayer. Somehow I have displeased you, though I know not how. When thou smilest upon me, my path is made straight, and I am Upgraded and my flights are First Class. But when thou hast turned against me, my flight is turbulent and the “fasten seat belt sign” glows eternal.
I have grieviously wronged you – this I know, because you have inflicted on me three crying babies in a single row of the SFO-DTW redeye. My row, where Ambien and Saporro are no match for six screaming lungs, cries no mortal earplugs can block. I slouch down, squint shut my eyes, and the child kicks me in the gut. As we cross the Rockies, I cannot sleep. I feel your displeasure. I beg your forgiveness.
I know now that was intemperate of me to ask for an Upgrade. I beg you, forgive my impuden
ce. I knew not that 20 platinum members shared the same plane, that my gold status meant only that I was a child amongst men, a hill in the shadow of mountains.
I have offered coins unto you at the Water Feature. Should you require it, I will sacrifice Luggage unto you, a Checked Bag lost for hours or days. Speak to me and tell me what I must do to regain your holy favor. I beg you, deliver me from economy class and grant me, if it is your will, two hours of blessed sleep from DTW to BOS.
I am your humble servant.