I am not to to the point of being able to laugh about it, yet. But I also know it's not the end of the world… or even the end of the day. I recently flew to see me parents out west after my Mother had some surgery.
Mom is doing well, and whatever else is happening in my life right now, that is the most important and wonderful thing. The rest, as they say, is pops and buzzes. I would like to say what happened is of no consequence, except just because something is benign in the grand scheme, the immediacy of consequence makes them a bit harder to swallow.
The average seat on a commercial airliner is approximately 3 scintilla larger than my ass. By the time you get to my shoulders, I am spilling into my neighbor's territory. Thusly crammed into the plane on the return flight, I was unable to work, as I literally could not type. It was futile. I tried all sorts of positions and exotic movements to work within the confines of my circumstance.
I probably looked like a Tyrannosaurus Rex trying to roll sushi… if the Tyrannosaur was sticking his tongue out in an attempt to tap into that last nth of whatever effort it is I think I can extract from doing so. If my Dad had a dollar for every time he told me to "put your tongue in your mouth", he'd have exactly half the number of dollars he would if he got paid for each time he said "get your hands out of your pants".
Either way, he would be wealthy.
Next to me was a rather sick looking man in his late twenties. Though from the looks of him, he fancied himself a younger person… a warrior, perhaps. He was smashed when he got on the plane. I didn't catch his name, but he repeated "double scotch on the rocks and a Coke Zero," enough times that I took to calling him Johnny Walker in my head.
Johnny walker was watching an episode of Law and Order over my shoulder. That's a nice way of saying that I was watching the episode on my computer with my headphones on. Since I had only enough room to sit and stare, I selected the only hour-long show available to me in an effort to pass the time. It was free.
I ordered a club soda as Johnny Walker ordered another of his concoctions.
I stress, this was only club soda. No booze. No flavor. It could have come from a can called "Puritans' Choice" for all I know, though the merry, dancing bubbles of club soda may have overwhelmed our Puritan forefathers… to say nothing of our Puritan foremothers!
The only thing hard about this club soda was the lime they put in it… which I hadn't asked for. In today's flying environment, that's tantamount to first class customer service. \
I was enjoying my free Law and Order and free club soda with lime. I wasn't enjoying Johnny Walker's breath, but that sort of thing is de rigeur flying back from Vegas. The party never ends, right up to the time you land back in Poughkeepsie or Menneola, or whatever plebeian jerkwater you come from.
The air was smooth.
No one coming down the aisle bumped me.
I was in no way interfered with.
So how did the cup of free club soda and lime, just do a bank shot on the screen of my open computer and land a seat away on the ogling Mr. Walker?
I looked at my hand, once holding a cup, now empty.
It was there just a second ago. Now, it was gone.
I sat, sort of blankly contemplating this as the insidious bubbly beverage was seeping its way into my computer.
A brief moment passed before I sprang into action. The first thing I did was the first thing any reasonable person would do.
I said, "shit!"
Not just shit - but a lurid, long, lascivious "sssshhhhiiiiit". The kind of shit where before the ssssshhhhh part is done, everyone in the vicinity already knows the end.
As quickly as I could, I turned to computer upside down and leaned on the power button to do an emergency shut-off. In keeping with the theme, I politely asked the flight attendant for "a shit load" of napkins, "please". People all around were handing me their tiny cocktail napkins that are useful for exactly what, I am not sure. But the thought was nice and I tried to be gracious in my thanks.
To her credit the attendant came back swiftly with what I would call a metric shit load of c-fold towels. Good ones. Collectively, everyone in aisles 30-32 was helping us mop up.
I did the best I could to remove as much water as I could from my computer.
Johnny Walker lamented, "I guess we're done watching Law and Order," which was odd, because he couldn't hear any of it. "That show is addictive," he finished.
He pointed to the computer and said knowingly, "That sucks."
I shrugged nonchalantly. However, I think I was sweating on the inside of my skin. What was done was done, but that didn't stop me from obsessing about it internally.
Deep in thought, and out of nerves I suppose, I began to pick at a stray hair on my forehead… well, what's now my forehead, but what used to be my hairline. This hair is tenacious, a fighter. A stubborn gladiator. The lone survivor of a battlefield once populated by seemingly infinite number of soldiers, all of which turned out to be weak recalcitrants excelling in retreat.
I did this until it hurt. Actually, I am quite sure it hurt for awhile and I didn't stop until it really hurt.
The flight attendant came by and Johnny Walker ordered another double scotch. I pulled out my credit card and said I would like to buy it for him. It wasn't necessary, he indicated, but I insisted. The flight attendant brought it, and one for me, too… "If you want it." There was a certain twinge of pity in her voice as she looked thoughtfully at the man who just spilled water all over his computer, his row of people, and who now had a fissure in his forehead.
I gladly accepted it and she never charged me for either drink, which considering the free club soda with lime, Law and Order and shit-load of towels was a veritable embarrassment of free customer service. All for no charge to me.
My parents bought a new car in 1986 that came with a matched set of leather luggage. Later that year, at the Eddie Bauer store, Mom saw the same luggage and remarked about the fact it cost a few hundred dollars and she got hers for free. My 11 year-old self responded, "actually, you paid $16,000 for yours."
As we descended into the complex southwest to northeast landing pattern over Detroit, Johnny Walker looked at me and said, a little breathlessly, "we made it."Suddenly, the six scotches started to make sense. He didn't like flying.
Right now, I didn't either.
My free club soda with lime, episode of Law and Order, shit-load of towels and double scotch cost me $1,000. Actually more, but for some reason, titling this post The Twelve Hundred Dollar Club Soda was less impactful to my finely honed literary sensibility.
My computer works, but it won't charge. It will only run off both the battery and A/C, but with no means to charge the battery, I am tethered. I have an exceptionally light, compact, expensive computer can't go more than six feet in any direction of a power outlet. A paradox unknown prior to our 21st century.
Also, I think the way its circuitry is, it starts off battery power, which is winding down. 85% at the time of the dousing… 77% now and going nowhere but down. I figure I have a month before I can't use the computer at all.
I don't have a grand to spend on a computer. I don't want to spend a grand on a computer. In the short-term, it's a little bit of a pain.
But, my Mom is healthy. I got to spend time with my family. And, while my clairvoyance is a little rusty, I think I will be blessed with being able to spend time with them into the future, which a couple weeks ago was not at all certain.
Long story short, I would steamroll a whole Apple Store worth of slender, lightweight, expensive laptops and toss my credit card on the pile while walking away nonchalantly for the ability to see my family, happy, healthy for years to come.
Here is to successful surgery, packed discount airlines, club soda and unsecured, revolving consumer debt. Life. Goes. On.
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