Because I have nothing better to be doing, I knitted myself a pair of booties. Actually they remind me of Japanese tabi socks but without the toe bit.
I think they'd make excellent bed socks or pretentious in-flight socks for when your feet allegedly swell up to bursting. This has never happened to me. In fact I've always found flying as dull as being on a bus, except for the odd occasion there has been some sort of mechanical failure (once, diverted due to engine failure; once, emergency landing due to fuel having run out), weather (once, diverted due to lightning) or the simple excitement of being in a death trap (once, Tupolev with carpet on the walls and what appeared to be rubber bands for propulsion). But the terminal can be far more dangerous than the plane.
I was once in an international airport with the girls, waiting for a changeover, when we decided to have an ice-cream at the pop up thing of a famous manufacturer. We sat at the bar on 50s style stools and scoffed the ice before moving off to wander around a bit more. No sooner than our behinds had lost contact with the seats, but the whole ceiling above the place came falling down. Right where we'd been sitting. They had to cordon off the area as a couple of people were very seriously injured. Fortunately we walked away from it with nothing but shock.
Which is not to say it was plain sailing after that. We got to the gate to get on the plane (remember, we've already been through security as this is a changeover) and were detained while the bomb squad came to look us over. Really. They were suspicious as we had i-pods, phones, a games console, a computer and a docking station on us. This was a time when we were travelling back to the UK for the long summer holiday, and all this paraphenalia was essential or life could not be lived...
Meanwhile, I'd been separated from the girls and had to remove almost all my clothes, undo my belt and unzip my jeans. I imagine it was to prove I didn't have any jollop strapped to me, but it was in plain sight of the rest of the (getting very peed off) people on our flight. When the bomb disposal men arrived, in full riot gear, they waved something over the pile of electricals, took the front of the docking station, put it back on, huffed a bit and waved us on our way.
There's nothing like a bit of ritual humiliation to help you form bonds with fellow travellers. Please tell me you, too, have been singled out for a full body cavity search due to the brand of chewing gum you'd packed...?

