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Woody Woodburn
400 Roosevelt Court
Ventura, CA 93003
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Lowlights From High in the Sky
Mark Twain, an enthusiastic proponent of travel, famously advised, “Throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor.”
Wise counsel, yet often in the course of sailing – or flying – away I get tangled in the bowlines, so to speak.
One memorable occasion occurred when I was taking a brand-new suitcase on its maiden trip. “Big Red” was the nickname my son bestowed on the beast when he greeted me at the luggage carousel.
Exiting the airport we took a long escalator up. Warning: Don’t text while riding an escalator. With my hands momentarily off of Big Red’s handle, it tumbled backwards.
More accurately, Big Red tumbled in place like a boulder on a treadmill while I was carried higher and further away. By the time I made my way down the up-moving stairway and wrestled control of Big Red, it looked like Edward Scissorhands had been its baggage handler. Good grief it was hilarious.
Speaking of hilarity, I have become somewhat of a legend within my family for finding myself next to memorable (pronounced “annoying”) seatmates when I fly solo. I am not talking about the run-of-the-mill characters like The Talker who keeps you from a novel or nap, or The Armrest Hog who pirates your elbow room, or The Fussy Baby or The Drunk.
Lots of passengers these non-frill-no-meal days bring food on the flight, such as fast-food hamburgers, deli sandwiches, even a full pizza. I, on the other hand, had a seatmate pull from his backpack a Tupperware tub of hot soup.
Soup is simply not a plane food. I am guessing he bought the albondigas at a kiosk and transferred it into the Tupperware as a spill-proof measure. The measure failed. A bounce of turbulence left me with a soaked-and-burning thigh.
Similarly, I had another seatmate pull out a large bowl. Granted, a salad is hardly unusual, even at 30,000 feet. But this one became memorable when the man began devouring it like The Beast in “Beauty And The Beast.” Indeed, I was hit numerous times by flying lettuce shrapnel.
Another beastly encounter was a seatmate who spent most of the flight with her arms raised and crossed resting atop her head. Oh, and was wearing a tank top – her bare armpits at my nose level. Unlike “Salad Beast,” I had no appetite.
I could go on at length, but here is my personal topper. On a flight from Los Angeles to Boston, where the weather upon arrival was forecast to be rainy with temperatures in the 30s, my stout seatmate boarded wearing only sneakers (no socks), tank top and shorts.
Let me clarify the latter: short shorts.
Even that description does not do justice. Let me try further. They looked like P.E. gym shorts circa 1970. Larry Bird and Magic Johnson wore longer shorts in their heyday. Olympic milers wear longer shorts. Forget Twain’s “Throw off the bowlines” – I wished: Lower the hemlines!
Worse, upon sitting down, Shorty Short’s shorts were pushed higher, revealing so much thigh as to venture from “PG-13” to “R.” Words fail—fall short, if you will—in giving a full picture, which is probably a good thing.
Certain that my family would surely accuse me of exaggeration, or under-exaggeration, I knew visual proof would be required. Surreptitiously, I snapped a knee-to-waist photo while feigning to be texting.
“Fotomat,” my wife said, squinting her eyes tight as if trying to un-see the photo on my phone, “would have refused to make a print of that!”
At least Shorty Shorts kept his armpits to himself.
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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.
Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …
- Personalized signed copies are available at WoodyWoodburn.com
- Unsigned paperbacks or Kindle ebook can be purchased here at Amazon