I Think I’ll Take A Nap
- Traveling – Which always takes it out of me.
- Funerals – Never a fun occasion.
- Hurricanes – We are all in overload on that topic.
Traveling by Air is fun. I enjoy the actual flying part of a journey. It is all of the other nonsense around it that sucks the life blood out of me. The
Planning, the Packing, Going through the so-called security folderol at the airport. Then there is waiting and then having to sprint to make your connecting flight.
Are there no direct flights to anywhere anymore? I can’t recall the last time I got to my ultimate destination without changing planes. To go from Indianapolis to Corpus Christi we flew from Indy to Atlanta (changed planes), then flew to Houston and, finally, on to Corpus. What I need to do is to win the lottery so we can charter a plane to take us wherever we want to go.
I want to live like a geriatric Rock Star.
Funerals are, by their very nature, emotionally draining. More and more often when I go to see someone off on their final journey I find myself taking part in a ceremony that is an amalgam of Grief and Bad Theater.
There is a series of steps that one must scale to appear properly respectful: Dress better than if you were going to Wal-Mart, Sign “The Book” when you arrive, Smile politely, but not too much, Nod in greeting to everyone you know or should know, and then sit quietly while someone at the front of the room goes on and on and on while forgetting to turn on the microphone. Only those in the front two rows can hear anything. For everyone else it is a mime show.
At some point someone else gets up to sing a hymn or two. Unfortunately, the singer and the nice lady accompanist playing the electric keyboard can’t ever agree on the tempo or the key.
And no one ever complains.
Quick summary of hurricanes: They are scary, loud, and necessitate buying bug spray and work gloves to enable you to safely drag fallen tree parts out of the yard.
Question: After all of these fun events what do you have to do next?
Answer: Travel back home.
There is not much to do during a three hour layover in most airports. The available seating is always uncomfortable. No matter where I try to sit I end up being buffeted by the other countless refugees looking for a seat. The food is expensive and rarely above qualifying as anything but fodder. Fast Food, Slow Food – it makes no difference. Wolfgang Puck may charge you $40 bucks for breakfast, but it won’t be any more satisfying than something you eat after unwrapping it from a cocoon of plastic wrap.
This most recent trip was particularly target rich for People-Watching. While squeezed into my seat at Gate Ten I witnessed a family of travelers sitting quietly when, out of the blue, Mommy traveler decided that Daddy traveler needed grooming. The poor guy was trying to read a magazine when his wife whipped out a rattail and spent two minutes combing his eyebrows. Nothing else, just his eyebrows.
A few minutes later, minding my own business, a woman and her young son came by. The kid was no more than three or four years old. She had the tyke tied to her with a green bungee cord – one end around her wrist, the other on the kid’s wrist.
She saw me staring at them both so I smiled and said, “That’s a pretty nifty idea.” She said that it worked well for her. I should have left it at that, but I didn’t. I got an immediate negative reaction from my wife, the Mommy, and from another woman who overheard me when I said that I thought the bungee cord gizmo was a better idea than one of those electric dog collars that deliver a bit of a shock if the puppy wanders off. My wife looked at me and said, “You just crossed a line you shouldn’t have.”
I wasn’t suggesting that she use one of those collars on her kid, but everyone within earshot took it that way. i should have just kept my trap shut.
Can you see why I have come to dislike traveling?