Part II: Falling Asleep Against the Window Pane

They're double plated. You can't break them.
My worst flight was a red-eye from Anchorage, AK to Chicago. It was an increcibly small, cramped flight. The five rows directly in front of me were full of very blonde, very thin teenagers all sporting Abercrombie & Fitch, and they would not shut up. My flight from Newark to London is much better. At least the old woman next to me is sharing her gum.
I've decided that my favourite picture on the safety information packet is the one of the red-headed woman serenely floating in the middle of the ocean, calmly clutching the cushion of what was once her seat on the plane that is, assuming from its absence in the picture, now buried beneath the waves. She looks a bit like Rose from Titantic: stoic and determined. Perhaps they should make cushions with wistles to blow to alert the men in the life boats (see the inside of the safety information packet).

Cheers.