CHAPTER 1: BEWARE OF WILLIE
Look. Wet willies are not appealing. Not in any way. Not even if the 400 pound woman sitting right in front of you spends the entire first thirty minutes of the flight trying to give one to her travel companion across the aisle. It is not charming to watch her try to fake him out by pointing at the United safety video for the fourth time. It is not funny when she arm wrestles the bloke, trying with all of her might to wedge her dripping finger into his ear, or nose, or anything she can reach. Nope. It's not funny. It's not charming. It just sucks.
CHAPTER TWO: PRIME BEEF
The movie Prime is horrible. Especially at 36,000 feet. It's like watching a two hour AUDITION for a movie, only less polished and more awkward. I can't imagine a less inspired film. I mean, aren't you sort of supposed to want the lead characters to be together? Aren't we, the audience, supposed to long for that? I have never wanted the main couple in a film to be together any LESS than in this one. I treasure the screen time they are apart.
The complete lack of chemistry, of character, of depth, of... anything, is astonishing. There are zero character specifics to hold onto, and the energy couldn't be any flatter. I imagine Uma and what's-his-name deciding to simply play the hand-drawn people they saw in their costume renderings. It's like a poor SNL sketch idea turned sappier and lengthier and shittier. The writing is thin, the performances transparent and the direction non-existent. Shame on you, Meryl. Shame. On. You.
CHAPTER 3: SOMETIMES FAST IS FAST
I always get just a little nervous right at takeoff every time I fly. Deep down, I know everything is just fine, but something deep within me always stirs as the plane tips up and leaves the ground. Like there is an instant of doubting the whole technology of flying. Like it doesn't really work, and we're going to realize it right now (picture Wyle E. Coyote falling only after he looks down).
Anyway, on this particular flight back from San Francisco, the nervousness comes at the end. As we are coming in for our landing, we seem to be going really fast. Really fast. I know, I know. It's just a perception thing, right? Right? Well, I try to tell myself that, but I don't have the time. Before I can finish my internal monologue, the plane smacks down on the runway with such force that it hurts. It makes a huge bang, and everyone in the plane jumps. We skid a bit and then settle into the usual slow-down. But, come on! What was THAT? Did the pilot look away and not realize we were that close to the ground? Or did the "flying technology" simply give out with a hundred feet to go, causing us too drop like a sack of dead people? Whatever the reason, it is unfun and makes everyone grumpy. Really grumpy. Which brings me to
CHAPTER 4: FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT
We're at the gate. Everyone has risen for that awkward ten minutes when you think you're about to deplane but don't. People are calling loved ones and coworkers and voicemails. Folks are chatting with one another, hunched under the overhead bins, thinking that if they try to stand they will be that much closer to exiting the plane.
My phone rings. It's my good friend D, who is coming to visit the following night. He's calling to arrange our meet-up at the airport. I know I'm on a crowded plane, but feel like it's an important conversation to have. So, I keep my voice low and the discussion concise.
At the end of our conversation, I make a comment about how much our daughter has grown since D last saw her. A woman a few people away smiles upon hearing this as she and I make eye contact. This makes me think two things: 1. she must be a parent, because all parents like to hear about kids and 2. I'm speaking too loudly. Feeling a little embarrassed, I quickly wrap up with D. And I do so in a such a way that makes light of the situation and also acknowledges the fact that I know I've been talking loudly enough to be heard by the others on the plane. An indirect apology of sorts. So, I say, "Okay, man, well I better go. I'm afraid that all of the kind people on this plane are being forced to listen to this conversation."
Without missing a beat, a slightly older and fairly gruff man directly behind me says, in a loud aggressive tone, "Yeah, ALL of us."
I'm in just the right mood for this. And I don't have to give it a second thought. I say, louder than ever, "Ok, D, I better hang up now because I'm about to start a fight." I barely hear D saying, "uhhhhhhh..." as I hang up and turn to face my enemy. A few people on the plane giggle. I feel like we're being watched by thousands.
"Is there a problem?" I ask. This guy won't look at me. He, who made a very rude and pointed comment, now won't even look me in the eye.
He says nothing.
"We all heard YOUR call, " I continue. This is true, by the way. He had just made a call a few moments before.
He says nothing.
"Look, do you have a problem with me?" I ask again (rather pleasantly, I should add - smiles and all). "Because if we need to work something out, I'm more than happy to."
He sort of weakly shakes his head. I think he maybe mutters, "no," but I'm not sure. Okay. That's that. As I turn back around, I catch the eye of that first woman who smiled at me before. She's smiling bigger now, giving me a thumbs-up with her eyes.
I have won.
EPILOGUE: REFLECTIONS
1. The woman who was giving the wet willies was huge. I just want to put that out there because I think it makes the tale that much more vivid. She was wedged between the arm rests extremely tightly, and perhaps was not even touching the seat itself.
2. Seriously, Prime is offensive.
3. I don't usually behave the way I did with the phone guy. More often than not, I just shut my mouth and grumble about it later. In this case, I spoke. But, my tone was genuinely polite and positive as I talked to this man (that is, as I beat him into submission with my carefully chosen words).
4. Saying "I have to go because I'm about to start a fight," felt grand. Really grand.
6 comments:
Reminds me of when S and I were flying to...I think...well, I can't recall where, but we're seated already and the aisle on the plane is pretty crowded with boarding passengers and there's this kid -- well, teenager/college-studenty guy -- in the row. Blonde hair. Funky t-shirt. Big backpack. And for some reason, the flight attendant, who is admittedly a bit frazzled helping all these people stow luggage and find seats, turns and looks at this kid who might as well be a poster child for Denmark and she (the f.a.) says, very, very slowly and clearly "DO...YOU...SPEAK...ENGLISH?" and the kid, who probably grew up in Ohio, looks at her for about a 5 count and says, dripping with irony and no trace of any kind of accent "si".
How do you talk about the shityyness of Prime w/out mentioning the guy's friend -- What an asshole he was!
Having said that, I did like when he called Uma a timefighter.
I'm very pleased that you mentioned Wile E. Coyote. Just this week, there was a coyote loose in Central Park, and the police were trying to capture it for a while. Which led to my making the requisite jokes about just putting up a fake wall with a sunset for him to run into, or perhaps putting out some exploding bird seed. That usually does the trick, right? These jokes made Basil think I was funny (briefly).
And of course the New York press -- the bad ones (i.e. the Post) -- did refer to him, in print, as a wiley coyote.
Hardy har har.
Of course, I saw a skunk running in our 'hood late the other night and all I could think of was Pepe Le Peu. I guess this says a lot about us. Unfortunately.
Basil referred me to your site as a place I might come to add my two cents about how god-awful "Prime" was. I also saw it on a United flight, more than a week ago, and I am still angry at what a bad movie it was and at the fact that those are two hours of my life I'll never get back (obviously, my options for those hours were limited--but they would have been much better spent reading the in-flight magazine or staring at cloud patterns over the midwest). The acting was terrible, the plot fatally flawed, chemistry non-existent, the script was poorly written, and the characters completely uninteresting. And yes, the best friend was an ass, for no good reason--what was with those pies? And the dialogue just made me cringe...she wants to knit a hat for his penis? he wants to "give" her a baby??
Phew! I feel a little better now.
Also, nice job with the phone call issue. That's like one of those times when normally, I would come up with all of those responses hours later on the train home and wish I had thought of them in time, and it sounds like you not only thought of them, you got them out in exactly the right way. Congrats.
Right! And as if "knitting a hat for his penis" wasn't bad enough, they overdubbed it with "thing" on the flight (as you know, having seen it in the friendly skies yourself, Jess). Ugh.
I'm going out to San Fran again next week, and it looks like I'll be seeing Cheaper By The Dozen 2 and Nanny McPhee. Can't wait.
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