When beer corporations began shortening the word “light” by two letters and creating the word “lite”, I made not a peep. When superfluous X’s and Z’s standing in for S’s were used to indicate coolness and popularity, I wrote it off as youthful ignorance. But when the advertising on delivery trucks is, for all intents, propaganda for poor grammar, I put my foot down.
Listen Ad Department, you’ve got just enough room on that truck to use correct, proper English as you do to use abnormally confusing double negative. I already feel brainwashed by reading that with the “Nobody does it like, Sara Lee” jingle in my brain. At least use your forces for good…English. (like getting me to use it in that summation)
I overheard a conversation while eating breakfast at a small town diner. A small town in which I was raised, where I lived a happy, productive, and easily above average life. While my memories of said small town are fond, I’m comfortable in stating that the world has more to offer than can be found in this small town. A resident may become defensive at that statement, rightfully if I were offering it as an attack, but I submit to you the following overheard statement as evidence that I am observing fact when I state that small town normal isn’t normal in the aggregate. I’ll offer all the context I have, but it likely will make it even more difficult to stomach (see what I did there? I was eating when I heard this! Get it!?!):
While enjoying my grits, eggs, coffee and biscuit, I had no choice but to hear the conversation between two late middle aged women three and four tables down (they were not dining together). They were discussing recent battle wounds from lumps in their respective breasts when one says* to the other:
“He stuck a needle in my breast and it looked like snuff spit coming out”
Let’s just say that the volume of food on my plate at the moment when that phrase left her lips and entered my ears was reduced not by a morsel.
*I’m not sure what term to use to describe something between a yell and the volume one would use while discussing sensitive information.
…I apologize if this is turning into a cliche’d stand-up routine (What’s the deal with airplane peanuts!??!) but I need to mention one other thing when it comes to traveling via airplanes.
At this point in the history of air travel, a level of responsibility has been placed on the traveler. Where we once could mindlessly arrive at the airport, stroll around with our non-ticket-holding loved ones, finish our cigarettes mid-flight, and carry as much liquid, as many sharp objects, and wear whatever type of shoes we’d like, we now understand that collectively, we’ve got to take on a few responsibilities of our own in order to make this, the fastest means of transportation, available to the largest number of folks. As a whole, we all seem to agree that this works. So can’t we all equally agree that anyone who does not know how to operate a simple seat belt should not be allowed on the plane? Or at least should be left to fend for themselves? Do we really need an adult to stand in front of us miming how to fasten the male end into the female end!? Not only does it waste time, insult travelers, and raise awareness to the fact that the seatbelt here has no internal-organ-saving shoulder harness, but it leaves the steward/ess looking more like a kindergarten activity coordinator than someone who’s expertise may be called on to save our lives. Perhaps some dignity is in order?
Thanks to a delayed flight, I had some extra time to wander the Memphis Airport and I noticed that there is no gate 13 in concourse A. There’s a gate 12 and a gate 14. There are odd numbered gates 11 and 15, just no 13. Without doing any research on the subject (who am I, Seymour Hersh?), I assume this is the case in other concourses and other airports across America (if not at least across the American South).
Now, I’ve got no real issue if you want to pray before a flight, if the pilot has a lucky set of wing cufflinks, or if the baggage handlers all join in a drum circle to get each day started. Whatever works for you is generally no harm to me. But I do take issue with a corporation charged with keeping huge, flying crafts from becoming huge, metal coffins being superstitious. I mean, unlucky number 13!? Come on, you’ve got engineers building the planes, and traffic controllers following precise mathematical equations keeping everything running (sort of) on time and you’re concerned with bad Voo Doo on one of your gates? Do you also employee Native Americans to dance away the rain? Feng Shui experts to keep the energy flowing when the planes dock?
Let’s focus on keeping the crazies out of the plane cabin, not hire them to airport management jobs, please.
During a recent trip via an airplane, I’d decided to not check a bag and just carry on my small suitcase. This decision was made before I arrived at the security check, but after it was too late to shop for travel sized toiletries. So when my toothpaste was confiscated, I took it in stride (though I did find it curious that an even larger container of sun block was okay) as I knew the rules and the TSA employee was doing his job. No harm, no foul (unless you count my soon-to-be rank breath).
Now jump forward to me sitting on the plane, the seatbelt sign has been turned on, and we’re allowed to turn on our electronic devices. I get settled in, have my music player set to a relaxing band, and casually glance between the seats in front of me to view a foot and a half wooden spear. A seemingly American loving middle aged woman was crocheting what appeared to be the beginnings of a scarf for who I assume was her equally American loving grandchild. I’ll grant you that I’m not an expert on the mind of a terrorist (I only know that they hate our freedoms), but as a general idea I find it to be more probable that one could do harm with a wooden crochet needle than to construct a bomb from materials hidden in a full size tube of toothpaste.
While I am asking that we get back to a point of relaxing just a bit when it comes to how many ounces of cologne we can carry on a plane (I’m assuming that there is no way you can make a bomb out of 3 oz. of liquid, only 4 and greater), in the meantime can we keep legitimate weapons out of the cabin of a hundred thousand pound flying tube of metal and fuel? You’re making it hard to be a raging liberal US government!
