Fly American from New York to Asheville

My dear reader, let us embark on a thrilling odyssey that starts on the concrete shores of New York and ends, rather anticlimactically, in Asheville, New York. Fear not, your vessel through the opaque clouds is none other than the Flying Chariot Network - American. Now, let's be realistic; trips like these are more fun with your feet firmly rooted in terra firma. So why, pray tell, would anyone want to fly?

Well, in this fast-paced world of ours, flights have become essential. Indispensable, even, like your morning cup of joe, or your nightly glass of red. Feigning surprise is wasted here. The extravagant allure of the 'Airfare' never ceases to amaze, a shimmering oasis amidst the parched desert of dreary land-travelling options. Surely, each penny shelled out is a crisp salute to the marvel of modern engineering that is domestic flights.

Allow me to weave this wondrous tale of choosing from a colourful array of flights, where every possible convenience emerges as a tempting fruit ripe for picking. Observe American's roundly praised Round-trip deal, a delightful goblet of sweet and sour that leaves one feeling sprightly. But sometimes, your life's narrative includes a single ticket for a One-way trip, a symbolic journey to an unforeseen conclusion - probably Asheville.

Direct flights offer an ephemeral nirvana to those burdened by angst of layovers, yet not all can be satisfied. Ironically, we must not overshoot the runway of our journey and recall that Layovers too can have their enticing charm. American, with practiced fingers, stitches together a network of Connecting flights orchestrating a symphony of coordination. Such harmony, dear reader, brings a tear to one's eye - whether from laughter or despair, I leave for you to decipher.

Lure of cheap flights dangles before our wallets with the deceptive subtlety of limbo dancers at airport bars. Ever heard of the Red-eye flight? The spectacular luminescence of the ordeal has some swooning with anticipation, others groaning with dread. But the prospect of substantial savings can make us all nocturnal creatures, surrendering to the sweet embrace of fatigue, with an eye out for flight deals.

American ups the ante, taunting our hedonistic instincts with a parade of indulgent luxury: Business class, Premium Economy, and the alluring excess of First-class. They dance a glamorous ballet in our imagination, at odds with the stark realities of Economy class living. Triumphs are achieved merely by securing an armrest competition against a burly stranger in the tight-lipped confines of the cabin.

The questionable fun ends when dealing with the Baggage allowance—a 'frequent flyer' antagonist in every traveler’s narrative. A reminder that 'baggage' in life weighs you down, both metaphorical and over 23kg. The hassles of frequent layovers pale against the dreadful anticipation of the Baggage Carousel Derby, a heart-pounding race for luggage recognition supremacy.

Dear reader, I share this tale not as a swan song of horror and despair, but as a hymn of amusement and mockery. Travel, in all its absurdity, remains a testament to human ingenuity, resilience, and an inexplicable tolerance for overpriced airport coffee. And if you do choose to fly from New York to Asheville, subconscious amusement shall surely be your constant in-flight company.