13 June 2008

Travels with a Donkey

As usual, I arrived at the airport entirely too early. Fortunately I joined one o' them hoity toity airline clubs (at a greatly discounted rate) some time ago when it started to look like I was going to spend more time in airports than in my apartment, so I at least get to sit in relative comfort with all the coffee I can drink, while glomming onto their free internets. In my past life, this would all be just fine, me being in my own space, entertaining myself by eavesdropping on the conversations erupting all around me (or even just the conversation in my own head), maybe doing a little doodling or reading or staring at the ceiling, or peeing like a racehorse in the relatively clean bathrooms, but in this life, I just want this part of the trip to conclude now so I can be with Zeeba. I think I once spouted some crap in my diary here about the journey meaning more to me than the destination... I guess before now I just never had very good destinations.

The announcements they blast over the p.a. (which stands for "public address system" for those of you not from the Jurassic) at airports drive me a little crazy. Maybe it's the deep and authoritative voice that seems like it's trying to brainwash me, or maybe it's the stupid things that voice says. Or perhaps the fact that it says the same things over and over and over again, because you can't brainwash someone by saying something once, and repetition is a sure way to make me lose my nut. Just ask anyone in my lab about it when that Sara Paralysis song comes on... the one where she won't write me a love song because I asked for it. Grrrrr! If she won't write me a love song, the least she could do is just shut the fuck up!

And when the airport voice utters the very ridiculous, "This is the last and final boarding opportunity for flight number whatever," I swear, I want to hit someone. I mean, I suppose it's also the ultimate, terminal, conclusive, and hindermost opportunity, too. It's the friggin' Omega! The opportunity will not knock again. After that opportunity, there will be no more! That's it! End of opportunity!

I guess the disembodied voice got a thesaurus for Christmas.

Also, why do they insist on using that stupid color scale for the security threat levels? Those colors mean nothing. I hear that the current security threat level is Orange - because it is never not orange - and I think, "I could use more citrus. I don't want to get rickets." They should use a scale that people understand, like, "The current security threat level is a punch right in your goddamn face." And when it gets really bad, they could switch it up to a shiv in your eye, and maybe for the worst ever they just start screaming real loud interspersed with crying and loud panicked sobs or something.

But at least they have that oh-so-clever 3-1-1 mnemonic to help us remember what to do with our liquids, gels and aerosols. If I didn't have that, how would I ever remember that these things must be in 3 ounce or less containers, in a 1 quart clear Ziplock bag, and furthermore, that I can only have 1 bag?

Oh, wait. I remember by just using my remembery! You know who doesn't remember by using their remembery? The guy in front of me in the security line. You know what else doesn't work with that guy? The goddamned 3-1-1 mnemonic, because I always get held up waiting for him to go through his fucking luggage to take out the tanker truck of fluid he had in there, not knowing that he had to have it in a 3 ounces or less container in a 1 quart bag! And that he could only have one of them!

I do use mnemonics sometimes, though, like to remember how not to get diseases. For example, earlier I mentioned oranges and rickets. Well, that was wrong, and I know this because of a little poem I taught myself:

If you don't want rickets,
Eat crickets.
If you don't want scurvy,
Eat oranges.
Or limes, or Vitamin C in some form or another.
Also, don't do drugs and stay in school.

I know, it's a terrible poem, and I don't think eating crickets really prevents rickets, but there it is. And it ends in a positive message for the youth, so I think in the end, in the finality, in the conclusion, in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, it is a good poem, or perhaps the lyrics to a breakaway pop hit if someone would like to write the music for it.

And with that, they are boarding my flight, so I bid you a fond adieu.

NOTE: I wasn't able to post this before the plane took off. Damn it. Because something else that bothers me is the safety announcement on the airplane, where the recorded voice tells you all about the oxygen mask dropping from the ceiling and then says, "If you are travelling with a lap child..."

A Lap child? Is that short for Laplander? Why would I be lugging around a Finnish kid?

And realistically, what's the point of all the discourse at the beginning of the flight? What good is your seatbelt going to be when your plane plummets 30,000 feet and slams into the side of a mountain? They might as well pluck feathers from their tails and hand one to each passenger, telling them it's a magic feather that allows them to fly.

It worked for Dumbo.

And judging from some of the passengers on this plane, it would work for them, too.

Peace out.

The Last Five:
I heard it on the radio - 27 July 2008
Happiness is... - 26 July 2008
Do bears shit in the woods? - 21 July 2008
Politics schmoliticks - 14 July 2008
words and pictures - 14 July 2008

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