WEST in FEBRUARY : Getting There

The Airtrain gave me a bit of a scare, after making me feel lucky and tricking me into thinking everything was starting off to a great start when the man hawking MTA cards told me it was free... but that meant I had to take the shuttle. A salt-and-pepper goateed man in a sweater vest sat next to a wiry, frustrated woman carrying a computer box, a few random bags, and a rolly suitcase. Their knees were shaking next to mine. They were stressed. Really stressed. The woman turned to me and told me her flight was at 1:25 and asked when was mine? "Same," I said, holding the left earbud of my headphones. I was listening to Bella Donna by the Avett Brothers, which seems to calm me down. Her piercing, blinking blue eyes screamed "help me!" and I tried to calm her down, telling her I do this all the time, assuring her that I'm always this late, and always make it. I feel weird telling people who are obviously older than me to chill out. Haven't they learned this in their many years of life? Haven't they figured out that everything is going to be just fine? I ran ahead of her because I knew we actually were cutting it close - and I wasn't about to wait and see if this woman made it. I gave the security guard my puppy dog eyes and he let me ahead of the other people in line for the shoes-off jackets-off dance. So here I was, plopped down in Row 6 of that bird, behind a screaming baby.

In Long Beach, my layover haven, the bar is exploding with people - misfits of all shapes and sizes. People drinking slowly and alone. People pretending they have things to do on their cell phones, or that they are extremely interested in what is happening in the Bulls - Sonics game, even though they are from Pittsburgh. I sidle up for a painfully expensive glass of pinot grigio, just to see what kind of conversation I could strike up. A man with a bright red beard who looked like Dave Camin sat to my right - he was the one I wanted stories from - he made a few witty comments into his pint glass and onto the screen of his solitaire game. An obese man next to me laughed when I peshaw'd my glass of wine, and then of course we all got into it about the Packers and Brett Favre. I like how easily people can talk to one another. Brian (fatty on my left) suggested I go and figure out my genealogy while in Salt Lake City - apparently those Mormons are very good at it. He used to be in business in Phili but then retired and started flying planes. I told him how cool I thought that was and I think he got pretty puffed up about that.

The man next to me on my 1.5 hour flight from Long Beach to Salt Lake City was out cold the minute he fastened his seat belt. He must have had a long week, or year, or he had taken a sleeping pill. I felt like I could have hugged the guy and he would have kept on snoring. I almost did, just to see what would happen. I smiled at his serenity, plugged in my earbuds, and settled into a Savage Love podcast. After a while, the flight attendant came around asking which delicious snack we each wanted. I always feel like I'm back in elementary school when this happens - just a bunch of people seated in quiet rows, staring straight ahead and being asked questions. But instead of "who was the first person to discover the Hudson river?" it becomes, "Would you like crunchies, munchies, cashews or cookies?" We're always excited to answer, always eager for our turn.

Turns out a dad sitting in the row in front of me was very eager for his turn. Or eager for something at least, but I'm still trying to figure out what. I remember being annoyed with him from the get-go. His two sons were strapped in beside him, futzing with the arm-rest remote controls. They had both cleverly selected Adult Swim and dad noticed right away. "Are you sure you should be watching that??" -I don't know, it's funny.- "Would your mom want you to watch that?? If I had headphones on to watch it would you feel comfortable with that?? What's it like in comparison to the Simpsons??" -It's better.- They went on forever so I droned it out and day dreamed about the tactics I would use to scare my kids out of ever becoming mature adults. How could I push them as far away as possible? Then the flight attendant came around with the snacks and I learned another way from daddio in the row in front of me. The guy had settled into a movie called The Fantastic Four while his two sons giggled to themselves as Meatwad mumbled words like "shit" and "sex." He neglected to take his headphones off as he answered the snack question. "COOKIES? SUNCHIPS? CASHEW NUTS? WHADDAYA WANT BOYS? THEY'VE GOT ALL SORTS OF THINGS!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. I swear to Jebus, the dead-asleep man next to me twitched immediately awake. He blinked into the dark abyss of the otherwise silent cabin, and must have been in somewhat of a fever dream because I think within this abrupt wake up call he began to perspire from the forehead. "WELL, MAKE A DECISION BOYS. WHAT'LL IT BE??" He was completely oblivious to the fact that his Fantastic Four headphones were still strapped to his scull and also that there were other human beings within 100 yards of him and his gaping mouth. His children finally selected the cookies and so did he, commenting on how great they were, until they were depleted from the bag, and until we were all thoroughly awake.