You want geeking out? Babe, I’m posting this from a connection in Dallas/Fort Worth. I WIN.
No one ever said air travel was a mad hoot, probably because a) it’s not and b) “mad hoot”? The hell?
Up here, 39,000 feet above the states some ethnocentric urbanite with a distinct lack of wanderlust named “the flyover states” for a danged good reason, I wish I were busier than I actually am. I brought cartloads of work to do on the plane, but I’m not the greatest flyer in the world, so my mind always ends up in overdrive and I’m never able to concentrate on one thing for very long (since I started writing this entry, I’ve fastened and unfastened my seatbelt, watched –without headphones — what appears to be a CBS Eye On America segment about the brilliant comedic stylings of Rita Rudner, and walked to the bathroom twice, a longstanding in-flight habit based on a longer-standing belief that god won’t kill me in an airplane bathroom). So, rather than focus on the many aspects of my life that go unattended while I’m in-between my city of origin of New York and my city of destination of Las Vegas (and the original topic of this entry), I thought it would be more productive to discuss what CAN be done in this relatively cramped space, in case you ever find yourself needing to pass the time:
*Fasten seatbelt.
*Unfasten seatbelt.
*Watch CBS “Eye On America” without headphones.
*Mentally change the name of American Airlines to “Everybody Loves Raymond Air”
*Take eleventh life-affirming trip to the bathroom.
*Stare uncomprehendingly at the pages of The New Yorker. Read the same sentence over and over again. Realize that these words would make sense in my apartment or on the subway but just don’t. Right. Now.
*Marvel at limited battery power of laptop, deciding that two mere hours of power are due to “the air up here” and not the fact that you miiiiiiiiiiiight have forgotten to plug computer in upon arrival home last night.
*Quietly express growing concern about the fact that it’s supposed to snow one million feet in New York as the exact moment your return flight is scheduled to land in New York.
*Worry about obvious, exhaustion-inspired ugliness of hair, skin, overall existence.
*Ask almost out loud why you seem to be the only person awake on the flight, while surveying your fellow flight mates on your twelfth walk back from the bathroom.
*Worry needlessly about household appliances that may have been left on.
*Worry that above concern is such a cliché place for your inner monologue to take you that you might be turning into a Family Circus comic strip.
*Think two people may never have been prouder of themselves in all human history than Meryl Streep and Al Pacino in their interview with Entertainment Weekly.
*Scratch Pamie’s blog.
Oh, man. Ray Romano just did a spit-take with a biscotti. We’re done here.
Oh, and I never posted that my rotting brain has taken on Trista and Ryan’s wedding over at TWoP. There should be a link to the NEW recap at this point, but the new recap hasn’t been written yet because American Airlines wouldn’t let me watch The Bachelorette as the in-flight movie. But probably only because it doesn’t air on CBS.