I’m writing this on the plane for posting when I arrive at the hotel…When I fly, I seem to have four times the usual volume of thoughts. I think it’s a combo of the physical shift in my perspective of life on earth, and the close proximity to a sea of strangers. When I was waiting at the gate, I thought it would be funny to post pictures of all the rando people you see in an airport, with the photos accompanied by snide one-liners about how dumb they look. Luckily, my conscience got the better of me (FYI, it’s -74 degrees outside according to the monitors here). Then when I got on the plane, the knucklehead in the seat in front of me dropped a fucking HEAVY bag from the overhead bin onto my head. It was someone else’s bag that he was trying to move. I said “God damn” kinda loud, and got physically agitated (fast heart rate, shaky hands) because it took me by surprise and hurt. The guy coulda been more apologetic too. I generally de-escalate whenever possible, so I told him no sweat, etc. and it was a non-incident. Then I read two articles in the New Yorker I brought along: one about profiling, the other about Pope Ratzinger and his choice to stop by a German cemetery in France during commemorations of D-Day and the end of the war.
The profiling article was a good analysis of why profiling as practiced today doesn’t work. Article was built around the example of banning pit bulls when the more effective attack-preventing measure would be to ban the kinds of owners from owning the kinds of dogs that attack. Just the kind of liberal ego soothe I expect from the New Yorker…but it was still good: How do you only make accountable those that should be accountable, before the fact and when the law must apply to everyone?
Pope article had similar theme: How accountable were all Germans for the atrocities of WWII? Is “salvation” available to all people, regardless of their actions? Can you separate a man from his actions? Interesting questions to think about….
Definitely been thinking more about morality and virtue as I get older (thus the Ben Franklin book purchase below), probably because I’m of fathering age now, and want to bear virtuous little nippers when the time comes…
Aside: Someone – I think it’s the guy in my row – is RIPPING horrible farts. Seriously, he must have crapped his pants. I mean, I’ve taken advantage of the whole moral hazard thing by farting on planes, but JESUS! I’ll take a picture of him if he falls asleep …
When I was waiting to board, I ran into two colleagues who it turns out are on the same flight as me. Sort of ruins the lost-in-space aspect of business travel, but at least they’re not sitting nearby.
Flight attendants approaching with drink cart. I will get a whiskey and continue to scribble.
Jim Beam Black...rocks. Mom, if you’re reading this, look away: I’m drinking.
OK, so I asked the nice British flight attendant for an extra bag of peanuts, and she gave me TWO, so I ate all three. I ate the middle one in one mouthful by opening up the bag wide, placing in my maw, and tilting my head back. Downside of consuming nuts this way: salt everywhere. I’m wearing my sunglasses around my neck on their little lanyard things so the backs of the lenses face up, and I got them all full of salt.
My neighbor beefed again. JESUS!
I sound kinda like Shappy when I blog. He usually encloses a benign gripe or two with his word-of-the-day emails.
OK, all for now…827pm EST. Signing off from somewhere over Halifax, Nova Scotia.
OK, 843pm now. TOUGH call coming up: Chicken with rice, or Beef with mashed…
850pm EST...Went with the beef and mashed, also got another whiskey. Dunno what it is, but when I fly, I scarf grub like a fuckin’ hyena. Also, I’m a sauce and gravy guy. I love them. I love soaking them up with bread. So when I got my beef and mashed (accompanied by green beans and carrots in the gravy sitting next to the beef) – get this – I switched the places of the beef and mashed so the mashed would soak up the beef gravy. I am more of a revolutionary than Che or that guy with the briefcase standing in front of the tank in Tiananmen square…
This is what my life has come to…maybe I should really ................, maybe that’s what this flight is telling me…makes me remember what this dude, I think his name was Andrew Brooks, said to me when I was applying to B-school and worked in LA. He had his MBA from Harvard, and we were at the Xmas party talking about applying to B-school. He said he was surprised to hear that I was applying to B-School because he thought B-school was the path for the risk-averse, and that I didn’t seem so risk averse. I was flattered, and I do think I need to take more risks. I have confidence that I will succeed the majority of the time, so I really should.
Random thought: That bitter doctor on the show House (playing on the monitor in the seatback 14” from my fucking face) reminds me of Lookstein from our hall in Cushing freshman year.
Just noticed on the monitor that there is a town called Gander not far from Goose Bay. Coincidence???
To whomever is reading this: I hope you find this entertaining, because I am KUH-RACKING myself up. Must be the whiskey...Oh, and are the ellipses just too annoying? I like them, sort of like a constant present tense…
I know I shouldn’t smoke, and I’ve been doing very well lately with it, but I bought a pack of smokes in the airport. It’s the hyena thing. Hyenas are fucking CHIMNEYS…
I want to smoke some Ducados in Spain. They are raucous and taste like fucking cigars, and all the he-men smoke them. So I will.
Oooooooooooooohh. They just turned off the lights. I can’t sleep on flights, especially with the COW snoring to my right. Oops, c’mon conscience, keep this nice for me.
Cool name for a kid: Omar.
Guy just beefed again. What the eff…
Duty free cart by my side. Yeah, I need a fifth of Beefeaters. Can you crack those on the plane? I should try that. Another thing I should try…occurred to me while I was narfing my brownie...wouldn’t it be funny right after a meal on a plane to case the aisles for people who haven’t finished their food and ask them if you can have what they haven’t eaten.
The farter next to me bought two cartons of Benson & Hedges and a bottle of Polo Black (cologne that is). He’s a brit, about 30 years old. I can imagine him smoking it up and smellin’ strong while he does a rap routine to himself in front of the mirror in a cockney accent. Signing off for now at 933pm EST…
1112EST now…crashed out for a while there. Lights are out, and the majority of passengers are crashed out. We’re about 2.5 hours away from London, middle of nowhere over the north Atlantic.
The profiling article was a good analysis of why profiling as practiced today doesn’t work. Article was built around the example of banning pit bulls when the more effective attack-preventing measure would be to ban the kinds of owners from owning the kinds of dogs that attack. Just the kind of liberal ego soothe I expect from the New Yorker…but it was still good: How do you only make accountable those that should be accountable, before the fact and when the law must apply to everyone?
Pope article had similar theme: How accountable were all Germans for the atrocities of WWII? Is “salvation” available to all people, regardless of their actions? Can you separate a man from his actions? Interesting questions to think about….
Definitely been thinking more about morality and virtue as I get older (thus the Ben Franklin book purchase below), probably because I’m of fathering age now, and want to bear virtuous little nippers when the time comes…
Aside: Someone – I think it’s the guy in my row – is RIPPING horrible farts. Seriously, he must have crapped his pants. I mean, I’ve taken advantage of the whole moral hazard thing by farting on planes, but JESUS! I’ll take a picture of him if he falls asleep …
When I was waiting to board, I ran into two colleagues who it turns out are on the same flight as me. Sort of ruins the lost-in-space aspect of business travel, but at least they’re not sitting nearby.
Flight attendants approaching with drink cart. I will get a whiskey and continue to scribble.
Jim Beam Black...rocks. Mom, if you’re reading this, look away: I’m drinking.
OK, so I asked the nice British flight attendant for an extra bag of peanuts, and she gave me TWO, so I ate all three. I ate the middle one in one mouthful by opening up the bag wide, placing in my maw, and tilting my head back. Downside of consuming nuts this way: salt everywhere. I’m wearing my sunglasses around my neck on their little lanyard things so the backs of the lenses face up, and I got them all full of salt.
My neighbor beefed again. JESUS!
I sound kinda like Shappy when I blog. He usually encloses a benign gripe or two with his word-of-the-day emails.
OK, all for now…827pm EST. Signing off from somewhere over Halifax, Nova Scotia.
OK, 843pm now. TOUGH call coming up: Chicken with rice, or Beef with mashed…
850pm EST...Went with the beef and mashed, also got another whiskey. Dunno what it is, but when I fly, I scarf grub like a fuckin’ hyena. Also, I’m a sauce and gravy guy. I love them. I love soaking them up with bread. So when I got my beef and mashed (accompanied by green beans and carrots in the gravy sitting next to the beef) – get this – I switched the places of the beef and mashed so the mashed would soak up the beef gravy. I am more of a revolutionary than Che or that guy with the briefcase standing in front of the tank in Tiananmen square…
This is what my life has come to…maybe I should really ................, maybe that’s what this flight is telling me…makes me remember what this dude, I think his name was Andrew Brooks, said to me when I was applying to B-school and worked in LA. He had his MBA from Harvard, and we were at the Xmas party talking about applying to B-school. He said he was surprised to hear that I was applying to B-School because he thought B-school was the path for the risk-averse, and that I didn’t seem so risk averse. I was flattered, and I do think I need to take more risks. I have confidence that I will succeed the majority of the time, so I really should.
Random thought: That bitter doctor on the show House (playing on the monitor in the seatback 14” from my fucking face) reminds me of Lookstein from our hall in Cushing freshman year.
Just noticed on the monitor that there is a town called Gander not far from Goose Bay. Coincidence???
To whomever is reading this: I hope you find this entertaining, because I am KUH-RACKING myself up. Must be the whiskey...Oh, and are the ellipses just too annoying? I like them, sort of like a constant present tense…
I know I shouldn’t smoke, and I’ve been doing very well lately with it, but I bought a pack of smokes in the airport. It’s the hyena thing. Hyenas are fucking CHIMNEYS…
I want to smoke some Ducados in Spain. They are raucous and taste like fucking cigars, and all the he-men smoke them. So I will.
Oooooooooooooohh. They just turned off the lights. I can’t sleep on flights, especially with the COW snoring to my right. Oops, c’mon conscience, keep this nice for me.
Cool name for a kid: Omar.
Guy just beefed again. What the eff…
Duty free cart by my side. Yeah, I need a fifth of Beefeaters. Can you crack those on the plane? I should try that. Another thing I should try…occurred to me while I was narfing my brownie...wouldn’t it be funny right after a meal on a plane to case the aisles for people who haven’t finished their food and ask them if you can have what they haven’t eaten.
The farter next to me bought two cartons of Benson & Hedges and a bottle of Polo Black (cologne that is). He’s a brit, about 30 years old. I can imagine him smoking it up and smellin’ strong while he does a rap routine to himself in front of the mirror in a cockney accent. Signing off for now at 933pm EST…
1112EST now…crashed out for a while there. Lights are out, and the majority of passengers are crashed out. We’re about 2.5 hours away from London, middle of nowhere over the north Atlantic.
