When I was 15 and in my last summer at Fernwood, I came back to my bunk one balmy afternoon to find a curious little present: someone had taken their still-soiled mac and cheese bowl and scrawled “Get Over it Muffy” across the inside in gigantic block letters.
For weeks I worked tirelessly to track down the culprit – not out of anger, but curiosity. What was I supposed to get over? Why was it so important that I get over it? Why use a bowl? Is this the meaning of life? Is someone trying to kill me?
I never did figure it out. In fact, I held onto that bowl as a keepsake. Today it’s somewhere in a heap in our dungeon-basement in Hastings, still eating away at me. And folks, I’m still not over it.
Speaking of which, two things that I’m definitely not over yet are a) the Giants winning the Super Bowl and b) my deep-seated aversion to airplanes.
Why? Well, for one thing, I love winners and I love winning. I love a win more than I love a sunny day, girl scout cookies, and even – dare I say it – goldendoodle puppies. I also derive a lot of pleasure from talking major shit on Boston.
On the airplane thing, the fact of the matter is that I will not rest until apparating becomes a reality. Hell, I’d even be happy with a good portkey or a trip through the floo system. JK Rowling: get on it.
Anyhoodingity, Snags sent me a fantastic news clipping this morning that incorporates both the Giants winning and planes flying, which got me thinking about things that might make flying around in a metal murder machine a more tenable situation. Numero uno would definitely be an free, impromptu stand-up comedy session by Tracy Morgan:
So in the spirit of Brian Fellows charitably distracting his fellow passengers from the indisputable fact that they are suspended 30,000 feet above the ground in a phallus with an engine and a couple of wings, here’s a list of other stuff that can help to take the “holy shit I’m gonna die in this tin can” edge off of long-distance travel:
- Prescription drugs (consumed responsibly, legally, and in small doses of course). I recommend xanax and klonopin, but anything that can keep your heart from pounding out of your chest cavity and prevent you from doing the psycho rocking-back-and-forth-in-the-fetal-position-with-your-hands-over-your-ears thing works. On flights longer than 7 hours or so, take one ambien and you’re golden.
- When prescription drugs are not an option, it’s important to find a way to make yourself really, really tired. Like tired enough that you can sleep through the horror show commonly referred to as “take-off.” This can be easily accomplished by taking early-morning flights when you’re hung over. Otherwise, hit up the airport bar and enjoy a few glasses of scotchy scotchy scotch.
- Noise cancelling head phones. This is not negotiable. I don’t care how much people say they may enjoy flying, no human being is programmed to hear airplane noises and not feel that a firey death is imminent. I find that Paul Simon soothes my nerves nicely when the whirring really get going.
- When possible, treat yourself to a first class upgrade. Many airlines give you the option of paying around 100 bucks to sit up front with the big boys when you check in, and if you’ve got the mons you should just go ahead and do it. That way, even when you feel like you’re going to die, you’ll know you’re doing it in style.