How long does it take to get to Italy?  It takes dinner, breakfast, and three movies.  Nothing helps time go faster for me than being glued to a movie.
When I'm sitting here in Victoria in my little office of the Victoria Gazette, I prefer movies on Channel 65, 78, 71, and sometimes 36.  Movies on these channels are mostly black and white, and the characters are mostly civil, clearly moral, and intelligent.  They are also sincerely funny or seriously sincere, often sentimental as well. 
When I'm sitting on an airplane flying here or there, I have to take what I can get, however, and airplane movies are never movies from the old days before my time.  Instead they're always movies from about the last five years, most of which are rather pathetic as you probably know, but sometimes I get lucky.  One time I got to see Nanny McPhee.  Funny as a crock.  Another time I got to see Gladiator.  Bold and brave.
This time I sampled Memoirs of a Geisha and The DaVinci Code and another boring one of no account and finally happened upon Breaking Away.  I stuck with Breaking Away because it took place in Italy and the landscape scenes of the starring bicyclist put me in the mood.
Right now I can't remember the names or themes of the other two features that I watched.  Obviously they will never rank, in my opinion, with Casablanca or The African Queen or To Kill a Mocking-bird.
In any case, when I watch a movie, either good or bad, the rest of the world disappears for me.  I become more than a spectator.  I become a character who lives and breathes with the characters on the screen.  I scream and heave and cry and almost die with them.
When I'm sitting alone in my office working on ads or writing up City Scoop, with a good black and white movie in the background, I can live through centuries of wars and loves lost and gained without bothering another soul.
But when I'm on an airplane, it seems I bother other souls.  It seems I make human noises outside of polite boundaries.  And, sorry to say, I guess that's only the half of it.
You probably know that deaf people talk louder than others because they can't hear their own voice very well at normal decibels.  Well, when you're wearing headphones on a plane, listening to your own private movie (the kind that are tucked into the seat ahead of you) with those little spongy things in your ears, you become deaf, in a manner of speaking, because you can't hear your own voice above Bette Midler or Robin Williams or other stars or semi-stars and their antics.
So when you've got the headphones on and the movie blaring in your ears, and you say, "Allan, I'll take a white wine," you, in fact, are shouting to the entire plane, "ALLAN, I'LL TAKE A WHITE WINE."
And when you say, "Allan, let me out.  I have to go to the bathroom," you are in fact declaring to all 473 passengers, "ALLAN, I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!"
A couple of times, mild mannered husband said to me, "Shhhh.  Everybody's sleeping."  Seems we're always flying through somebody's night. 
I think I was pretty good for a while, but with the little screen in front of me so full of sound and alive with emotion, I soon forgot myself again and went back to my own ways.
"Chicken or beef?" asked the flight attendant.  "I'LL TAKE THE BEEF."
"Coffee or juice?"  "ALLAN, TELL HER I'LL TAKE ANOTHER WHITE WINE FOR LATER."
And so the long flight continued, with my behavior a bit over the edge, I guess, mainly unbeknownst to me until shortly before we landed, when I caught two of the flight attendants looking at me in the light of day from the front of the plane but not saying a word.  I smiled back at them but thought to myself, "How strange."
"ALLAN, I ACCIDENTALLY PUSHED THE WRONG BUTTON AND LOST MY MOVIE."  I waited patiently while Mr. Technical Man got everything back in order for me, searching the menu and fast forwarding and rewinding as necessary until he found my place.   "THANKS," I said.
As we were preparing for landing details, and as the attendants were walking up and down the aisles picking up headphones from people who waited until the very last minute, one of them bent over to me and said, "You sure enjoyed your movies.  Were they loud enough for you?"
"Oh, yes," I replied to her unusual tone of voice.  "Thank you for your fine service."