Journey to Poplar Bluff, chapter one

I just got the best fortune cookie I’ve ever had. Not in taste, though it was quite tasty. The fortune. From (insert generic Chinese restaurant name here) Wok. Charlotte airport. Stage one on this weekend’s journey to Poplar Bluff Missouri. From here I fly to St. Louise, rent a car and drive 3 hours to southern Mo, the show-me state. Poplar Bluff seems to be one of those places that’s about the same distance from every major airport (St. Louis, Springfield, Memphis, Nashville, Little Rock)

In the terminal I’m watching Flight of the Conchords, my favorite New Show of 2007. For those not cool enough to know, it’s about New Zealand’s 4th greatest comedy/folk duo who move to New York to make it big. It’s shot single-camera style (think the Office) and is hilarious in a offbeat absurd way. It was on HBO this summer and it’s funny enough to make me laugh out loud in a terminal full of people watching me watching Flight of the Conchords. On the plane I’m reading The Man Who Heard Voices, a biography about M. Night Shyamalan trying to make Lady in the Water. And it’s a excellent read.

I don’t know why but I only read Non-Fiction on airplanes. I read fiction constantly, mostly Fantasy/Sci-Fi (Forgotten Realms, Star Wars) or action/spy (Ian Flemming, Clive Cussler), and my boy Scott got me into Michael Crichton (he named his son after him after all!) But for some reason, I can’t read fiction on a plane. Maybe it’s the realness of flying, being surrounded by strangers, of the journey. It’s easier to get lost in fantastical fiction when you’re home, in the quiet alone times (I mean, dropping a deuce on the pot). I read travel accounts, biographies, history novels, as long as it’s good and it’s real. I also think it’s good to have rituals when embarking on a stressful path. I hate flying, so I have little rituals. I board the plane last. I get pleasure out of watching everyone in such a hurry to fall into line to board the plane where they will sit in a small uncomfortable place (like the back of a Volkswagen! - Mallrats) for the next 20 minutes. I , the king, will board last, after you little peons find your seats! I give the hull of the plane a little pat just before I get on, I am trusting it with my life after all. Sometimes I mutter, “C’mon baby stay together” (Han Solo, - Star Wars) I chew gum on takeoff and landing. Little rituals.

Anyway, the fortune said:

Even Popeye only ate Spinach when he had to.

Chew on that.