Whatever Happened to Leg Room?

As a rule (I have lots of them; the only rules I like to follow are the ones I make for myself) I don't ever eat franchised fast food. But like every rule, this too has its exception. Whenever I fly and the time of day fits I make it a point to eat a fish sandwich and small French fries before boarding. Something about a square fillet of fish on a white bread bun with orange cheese and tartar sauce seems properly as unnatural as the process of flying itself. Also it tastes really great and unlike the old days when airplanes had smoking sections and leg room, one must fend for oneself culinarily when airborne, though usually I am asleep from thirty minutes after takeoff to thirty minutes before landing. On an ideal flight anyway. Here's the home version, a panko crusted piece of fish fresh from the freezer, topped with a slice of cheddar cheese; equal parts mayonnaise and relish for tartar sauce; a bun from the local bakery. Not as exciting as a trip to Mexico (in my dreams!) but tasty enough on a Wednesday.