So how weird was it when I was flying home from Sacramento
last week reading David Sedaris’ hilarious new tome “Let’s Explore Diabetes
With Owls”?
The flight began with the usual spiel from the flight
attendants. This time, though, “Mandy” included a mention that we were being
flown by ‘two of the best’ pilots Southwest has. Really? So is there an
official ranking of the pilots? If so, does that imply that you sometimes start
out telling your passengers that they are being commanded by ‘two of the most
average’ pilots in the realm. Or even worse, “Ladies and gentlemen, today we
are being piloted by the two very lowest-ranked captains working in the
industry. Let me assure you, though, that they are still going to get us there.
Or so they say.”
But I digress… Back to my reading material. After all, if we
are in the hands of the best Southwest pilots around, why bother listening to
what to do in the event of a water landing.
How much water is there between Sacramento and Vegas, anyway?
Again, I found myself chuckling lightly at first, then
slammed with Sedaris’ crazy observations that would elicit a real belly laugh.
Realizing, however, that any peculiar behavior on an airplane can lead to
wildly undesirable consequences, I tried to put a lid on it. I can control
this, I said to myself. I know he’s going to be extremely funny, and I can
stifle the giggle response.
Well, that was easier said than done.
Every time I chortled, even softly, my seatmate wriggled
uncomfortably. Geez, it’s not as if I was singing Whitney Houston songs, and
disturbing the general calm of the passenger population. In fact, I heard every word of a conversation between a
man and a woman in the row ahead of, and across the aisle from me, for the
whole 2 ½ hour flight. I doubt seriously that anyone more than one seat away
from me could hear me laugh. And no one tapped these people on the shoulder and
said, “Excuse me, but I don’t care to know about your workflow, your security
procedures, or what your toddler will and will not eat. Keep it down over here.”
Still, I worried that someone could do more than look
askance at me while I cracked up over David Sedaris’ observations of his
father, his partner and himself. I worked a little harder at self-control.
Then I came to the section about learning foreign languages,
and the phrases that he picked up. Self-control went out the proverbial window.
I defy you to read about his learning German, hearing jokes in a bar, or his
meeting readers at book signings without laughing out loud.
The flight attendant glanced over at me. I put Sedaris back
in my carry-on. At least Time magazine could be read with a straight face. For
now.
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