GLEE. (is back and more dramatic than ever)
This will be brief.
Random sign in Oman that just popped into my head: "Welcome to SAPCO, please come always." I don't actually remember the wording, but I'm almost positive that's what it said.
We were also down the street from a "Typical Dental Clinic" – the connotations of "typical" having been confused in translation. Naturally the "T" was rubbed off and it was simply the "Ypical Dental Clinic" for the 5 years we were there.
The kids from youthgroup came back from a field trip with a picture of a sign reading "Plastic Torture is Forbidden," which was more of a discussion piece than a sign. I think it had something to do with pollution...
My favorite though, was the warning sign near a water hole in a wadi "Diving Accidents are Now Popular."
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Hairy Krishnmas
While I was in Texas, I happened to be in the hair dye section, and there was coincidentally a sale, and I might have accidentally picked up a box of dark red coloring. This broke my (almost entire) year of fasting from dyeing my hair – but I was actually only a month early, and I gave up stuff for lent, so I figure that bought me a month.
The kids have gotten a kick out of it.
"Miss Stewart, did you dye your hair?" was shouted at me repeatedly throughout the day. I try to avoid answering redundant questions like this (I figure responses only further stunt their intelligence), so I mostly smiled and shrugged.
When nefarious Nathan came in and asked me for the millionth time, I was tired of it.
"No I didn't. Someone shot me in the head and the blood mingled into my hair and created this color."
"Eww I don't believe you!"
"It's true. My friend shot me –"
"It was your friend?"
"Well we're not friends anymore." and so on.
Daniel told me I looked like Mary Osbourne, many many times. David decided I looked like a waitress and got a kick out of calling me over.
"Hey waitress! What's 88-7?"
Vivian and Charlotte, a set of twins, were shocked. "I didn't see this coming," Charlotte said. "You look like Little Red Riding Hood."
This post is dedicated to my Emmas. To the hair stylist Emma Catherine, who left blondey bits in my hair which make me look cooler than I am. And to Emma Cole, a natural redhead who pulls it off much better. (A natural curly head too, for that matter...maybe brown contacts are in my future.)
Once again I find myself returning to blogging about my irrational fear of flying. This time with new justifications. ("Now with twice the servings!") I suppose it's somehow fitting that I would develop this phobia – I without a homebase, I with my friends spread across continents, I with my own need for travel. No solution, you say? Boats, I say! People have been traversing the world for centuries through sea travel.
As we drove to the airport today, I looked at the ominous whiteness surrounding the city and remarked, "You know, weather like this brings planes down.
"No it does not!" my mother rebuffed. "Stop saying things like that!" (She is also, if you recall, the one who told me to stop reading airdisaster.com)
"It's true. Fog like this took out the government of Poland yesterday." (Yes, I realize this was a highly inappropriate comment, but sometimes I get fixated on making my point. I apologize.)
My mother looked around. "This is NOT fog!" she exclaimed. The rest of the car laughed at this – it was like saying that we weren't in a car, in Austin, in April. Magritte would have been proud. (See above image).
She paused. "It's mist."
Fair enough.
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On the same airport trip, we discussed the strength of my jaw – a topic I often bring up, only because a dentist had me clench my jaw once and became very surprised. He told me that my jaw muscle was very overdeveloped and asked if it ever clicked. I told him it didn't, and he told me it would probably start, and I would probably develop TMJ.
As I told my mother this story, she pooh poohed the doctor's opinion, and told me he was probably flirting with me. (I must say, there has to be a better way to woo a woman besides telling her that her jaw is unnaturally strong. "My, what a muscely jaw you have, Ilsa. Sam, play that song again!") I pointed out that my jaw had, indeed, started clicking a few weeks later and I developed TMJ.
Her response: "He probably did something to you."
Apparently I get my need to win arguments directly from the tree.
**
Anyways, the flight itself was wonderful except for the first 30 minutes of turbulence. Oh and the TV right above me whose screws and support had come almost completely out so that it rattled and looked like it was about to fall on me the whole time. And the chunks of plastic coming loose on the armrest and overhead compartment. Honestly, if the interior of the plane is starting to disintegrate, it makes me really nervous about the rest of it.
However, everything was redeemed through my delightful seatmate. He was a UCLA grad student studying history, and was wonderfully chatty and distracting. I told him how much I hate flying (which I always do – trust me, you don't want to end up next to me on a plane), and he assured me that "hopefully we'll get through this turbulence." I didn't appreciate the "hopefully" part – I think he's one of those super honest people who need to be completely accurate and he didn't want to be called out later if the plane crashed. Like I would have thrown it back in his face. (OK maybe I would have. Might as well feel vindicated in my final moments.)
I started telling him about the Flight of Doom I was on which got struck by lightning but I didn't know it and thought an engine had exploded and the captain and flight attendants were conspicuously silent. SILENT. After a giant explosion on the wing of the plane which half the passengers saw. Oh, one attendant came down the aisle and nervously looked out the window before going back. That was all. And then Will looked out the window (we were supposed to be landing) and started muttering "We're not getting any lower. We're not getting any lower.)
Anyways, as I told him the story, my seatmate was extremely sympathetic and said I was a real trouper. A trouper – that's right. I told him about a domestic Egypt flight I had been on wherein the planes' interior lights flickered on and off the entire flight, AND there was a giant hole in the glass of my window. (There are two glass panes on airplane windows, but it was still unnerving.)
Then I told him how I had been on an Air France plane the same day another commercial AirFrance flight had mysteriously crashed into the ocean.
I also told him about airdisaster.com, and about another plane I had been on which had the "EXIT" signs light up during turbulence.
I didn't tell him about the Yemeni evacuation where we hoped the South would honor their agreement to halt antiaircraft long enough to let American evacuees out of the country.
I didn't tell him that since watching MI2, I've been freaked out by the "oxygen" masks because in the movie they're filled with poison.
I didn't tell him about my dad's family bribing their way onto the last plane out of Iran before the airport collapsed in the '70s
Anyways, I've realized that though my fear is "irrational," it is not without foundation. That's all I'm saying.
Plus, I'm a trouper.
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Today's Smashing Story relates to the jaw topic: A man in Georgia tried to eat a giant sandwich only to have his jaw lock in place as he stretched it for the first bite. Click the link, it's pretty entertaining – his family thought he was kidding and laughed at him. They probably weren't laughing during the next 14 hours as he underwent surgery.
Today's Life Advice: The day before flying, make sure you get a severe sunburn on your shoulders so you can really feel your backpack – which is stuffed with everything you used to put in your checked bags – dig into your flesh. This ensures that you are constantly in tune with your luggage.
*This advice directly corresponds with making sure to get skin cancer in your 40's so you can be in tune with your body.
My anti-terrorism plan. After reading about the latest aviatory terrorism attempt, I have come up with my own plan to prevent in-flight terrorism: Put everyone asleep for the whole flight. That's right, knock them out. If everybody is unconscious, nobody will be able to set off a detonator mid-flight.
Admittedly this idea was spurred from personal reasons -- after this summer's flight of doom, I developed a serious fear of flying. My mother blames my father for introducing me to websites like airdisaster.com, which has everything you want to know about plane crashes throughout history--including transcripts of black box conversations.
But even after airdistaster, I was a fine flier until I was on a plane this summer and saw (what I thought was) the engine exploding and was positive we were all going to die. Now I can't stand flying at all. Which is peachy, because I still fly waaaay more than any normal person should, and I don't intend to stop. Naturally, I decided that the only solution to this was to be anesthetized during the whole ordeal. And if I'm going under, why not everyone? Plane-rides can be a thing of the past; literally a pleasant dream.
Anyways, I'm hoping that my blog comes up on some sort of secret service scan because I used the word "terrorism" three times, and whoever reads it will pass on my plan. They could even have fun with it, and use little pills to knock passengers out. The pills can be blue or red for Matrix fans.
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For the next post, my brother Christophe will be guest blogging.
