Potaytoe-Pohtahtoe

Some weeks ago, I read that some scientists had discovered a new species of monkey.  Such exciting news - what are these hidden corners of the worlds that man has not yet stepped upon?  That, for me was the most fascinating thing.  I mean, if we have not seen all the world, could the world maybe have corners that one could, theoretically, fall off of?  If we haven't been there, we don't know.  Instead of the Bermuda Triangle, it could be a Bermuda Edge and that is where people disappear - they actually, literally, fall off the earth! 

But I digress - back to the new monkey.  This monkey is a little thing and its outstanding characteristic is a nose that looks like the one Michael Jackson ended up with.  I was intrigued - how did said scientists find this monkey, heretofore unknown?  It turns out that the scientists were hanging out with some hunters that they came across and that the hunters had skulls of a shape the scientists had never seen before.  "What are these skulls and where did they come from?" the scientists wondered out loud, in the presence of the hunters.
"Oh, we'll show you," replied the hunters and then the hunters led the scientists to where the monkeys were.  And this is the tale of how the scientists discovered the monkeys.

And this really brings up a question (in my mind, at least).  If you hear people talk of things and you have them take you to see these things, an it really be called YOUR discovery (I'm looking at you David Livingstone, with Victoria Falls, aka Mosi-oa-Tunya)?  At what point are people going to start admitting - no, no, I didn't really discovered.  What happened is that a few people who knew of something, told me about it and I decided to tell the world.

Or is the power of discovery a power enjoyed solely by the powerful?  If you know of something and you have no power, does that mean that thing does not exist?

Maybe that's the deal with that tree in the forest that no one is hearing... yet.  Don't worry, tree, the scientists are coming!

Naples, Florida

I spent a week working in Naples, Florida and finished earlier than the flight I was booked on.  I headed out to the airport, in the hopes that I would be able to get moved to an earlier flight but I was out of luck.  Plane trouble had led to cancelled flights but, as I had already returned my rental car, I was stuck at the airport for most of the day.  I sat about and wrote in my notebook a little:

- Spotted several men in muscle shirts; skintight technical gear that one is really only supposed to wear while exercising and, even then, one should probably just say no or at least "not so tight."  Thought - maybe the muscle shirt is the male equivalent of the sexy top, miniskirt & high heels worn by the ladies.

- Folk may be wondering about me too, as I sit with coffee and water, barefoot, with knees drawn to my chest, feet on seat as I read my magazine.  I just finished reading a story about John Lurie and then discovered that, apparently, Edgar Allan Poe invented the detective story.

There are so many things that I learn while on these trips, catching up on my magazine reading

- Picked up the Wall Street Journal that I decided, years ago, to stop reading.  I never liked the articles.  I read one that was flat, but then I found out that Rothstein, who allegedly fixed the 1919 World Series, was murdered.  This struck me because I have been watching the TV show, "Boardwalk Empire" and he is a character in it.  So... I read this and I think "Darn! Now I know how he leaves the show!  They shouldn't have printed that spoiler."  Then I stopped myself.  Silly me, the guy really existed!  I should have known how he ended. The blur of reality and TV.  Does this mean that there is a tendency now to view stuff on TV as not real? And can that really be all bad?  Look at all the things people believe because they have seen it on TV - like how a spray-on tan or spray-on hair, for that matter, will be seen as real and believable by people.

- Wow I also just learnt that Shelock Holmes used to be felled by boredom and cocaine!  I read those books in my youth; did that come up in the books or were my books censored?

- Again with the tiny bathroom stalls.  I couldn't change my flight and they tell me that it's too early to check my luggage.  Now, I have to try to fit myself AND my bags into the minuscule bathroom stall with doors that open inwards.  Great thinking, airport bathroom designers.  What are you trying to do - tick us off before we even get squashed into a seat with no legroom?

And with that I schlumped to a restaurant for a meal and a cocktail. At least it was warm and sunny

Creature of Attempted Habits

When I travel, I don't like to be rushed.  There are those who like to arrive at the airport with only the smallest sliver of time to spare, tap their feet impatiently in the security line, huff and puff as they are sent through the metal scanner more than once (it's that darned penny that got caught in the lining of my coat!) and sprint through to the departure gate as though they are trying out for the Olympics.  I prefer to take everything at a leisurely pace - rushing, among other things, leads to losing things, dropping things and breaking things.  Towards the end of last year, I spent quite a bit of time in airports, waiting for one kind of flight or another. 

My preferred modus operandi involves me getting to the airport with at least an hour to spare, before my flight.  If I'm lucky, I get to check my bag in for free.  I still have not gotten used to the idea of having paid for a flight, having to pay again to take my things on said flight.  Here, one cannot take liquids on a plane (a few weeks ago an agent confiscated my Nutella!) and, as lightly as one tries to pack, there is never enough space in the overhead for everyone's overnight bag.  This means that people disregard the boarding instructions, make a mad dash for the plane as soon as they can, and stuff their way-too-large-for-overhead bags into the compartments and things get ugly.  But I have leapt ahead of myself.

I tend to get to the airport, work through security - I don't wear jewellery and I wear shoes that are easy to slip off and on - and try to make it all as painless as possible.  Once through that obstacle, I look around for a restaurant.  Depending on the time of day and the length of flight, I may or may not get something to eat.  Nowadays, it can be difficult to get food even on an 8 hour flight.  Plus, that airline food is not known for being tasty; you're lucky if it's edible.  Regardless, I always get a cocktail.  Flying makes me a little nervous, so I like to be able to spend a good amount of time, zoning out and sipping on my drink.  Aaah.

Finally, it is time to head to the departure gate and wait for my row to be called for boarding.  I then amble on through and head for my seat.  I like a window seat and sometimes my row neighbours don't like me because, I often need to get up to go to the restroom.  I have already told you about the lack of space involved in travel and the general stresses that come with stuffing people in small spaces for hours at a time.  I try to ease the pain and a window seat (sorry I need to go to the bathroom) goes a long way.  I have reading material on hand, and I'm good to go.  If I have hand luggage, often the flight staff ask to check my baggage at the gate.  I welcome these moments because then I don't have to play the overhead stuffing game.  One less thing to navigate through the narrow plane aisle.  I squeeze into my seat and exhale.

I always listen to the safety instructions - I don't want to jinx things.  Then it's "hold the arm rests and try to make the best of it."  On a really good travel day, I fall asleep while waiting for takeoff and don't wake up until we're airborne.  However it is that it ends up, I'm doing what I can to make it as painless as possible.  I won't lie, that cocktail goes a mighty long way.