taxiing to the runway. Please ensure your seatbelts are securely fastened, your tray tables and seatbacks are in the upright position, and all electronic devices are turned off. Than

g through the pages. "I'm sure there's something on here that will satisfy my hunger." "Oh my goodness, they have everything," Williams says, peering over my shoulder at the menu. "They've got sandwiches, salads, pasta, and even chicken fingers. And they've got a whole page of desserts. How are we ever going to choose?" I chuckle at his reaction, but I can't help but agree with him. The menu is extensive, and it's going to be hard to narrow it down. "Let's take our time and look through it carefully," I say, savoring the moment. "We've got plenty of time until the flight attendants come around." I settle in, browsing the menu and discussing the different options. It's like a little game, trying to figure out which item sounds the most appealing. After a few minutes, William points to a listing on the page. "Ooh, that sounds good," he says, a mischievous grin on his face. "What do you think of the chicken parmesan?" I read over the description and raised my eyebrows in interest. "It does sound pretty tasty," I say, looking up at him. "Do you think we should get that?" "I say we go for it," Williams says with a decisive nod. "And we should get a dessert too. They've got cheesecake, pie, cookies, and even ice cream sundaes. You can't go wrong with ice cream, right?" I'm starting to feel my mouth water at the thought of all the delicious food, and I nod in agreement. "You're right," I say, already imagining the sweet, creamy goodness of the ice cream. "An ice cream sundae sounds perfect." William called the flight attendance, and the flight attendant arrived at our seats, a friendly smile on her face. "Hello, and what can I get for you today?" She asks, pulling out her notepad. "I'll have the chicken parmesan, and he'll have the same," I said, pointin