Emily the Adult
This seemingly young girl came traipsing up to gate B24, literally shoved her dad aside with a face that spoke, “ How could you even dream of sitting by me?” Strike one in my book. I really do try to reserve judgment, but such obvious and extreme disrespect doesn’t fly with me. Her Chanel sunglasses (in 30 degree, rainy weather?) and outfit of the like was kind of a strike two. Then she called her boyfriend to explain the terrible time she had getting through security. She basically summarized her life story in describing why she carries 12 different bottles of prescription pills at all times. She got into some pretty personal things and the business man across from me finally got my attention and just shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands in the air. I was honestly quite embarrassed for this poor girl. It seems that often times the richest are in fact, the poorest.
Emily ended up following me onto the plane and sitting between me and the grad student on the isle. She told us that we were lucky, because she usually travels with her cat, but left the cat home in LA this time because it scratched her last time. Now she has a scratch mark and bruise that are getting in the way of her modeling success. Then she and the grad student got into a little tiffy about direct vs. non-stop flights. I could go into it, but basically, Emily was insistent about a direct flight the other woman knew doesn’t exist. Emily saved a little face by explaining that “I never do things like book flight reservations for myself, I always just pay other people to take care of that messy stuff.” (Chomping all her gum all the while…) She told us that we’d better consider it a privilege to sit next to her, because we will never get the opportunity to see her same hair color ever again since her stylist created and patented that brown herself. She’s been using that stylist since she started modeling at age 13. Once she got talking about all the things she does whenever she goes to Vegas, I decided to ask her age. She is turning 20 in two months and signing on with a new APS this weekend. That is some kind of Adult Performance Society- Emily is “not a child anymore.” I don’t think I would have traded my experience getting to know Emily for anything. But our short was about the longest I could handle Emily. Her poor father sat behind us.
A Gift and a Curse
Before getting on my flight from Cinti (the correct abbreviation for Cincinati) to LAX, I approached the gate attendant just to kind of go over my seating arrangements. I found out that my window seat was about three rows from the back of the plane, but with an empty middle seat between me and the stranger. Even though I knew I’d be pretty close to the loud engines, I stayed put, excited that I’d get some extra space next to me to stow my duffel. Plus, if any one can handle the loud engines, it’s me. I decided to do the rest of the passengers a favor by sitting near the back since I can sleep through pretty much anything. A gift, and a curse.
I boarded two groups before mine, to ensure that I got to use that extra space. I usually anticipate a rousing conversation with my row partner, so was kind of bummed when the Israeli Santa Claus plopped down next to me for a six hour flight. He didn’t look very talkative. At first I was so annoyed. I seriously almost offered to switch him seats because I could tell he LOVED looking out the window so much. He would just stare. Look all around outside. Up, down, at the rain, at the runway flaggers, at the smudges on the window. I couldn’t even mind my own business at all because I knew he was watching my every move. And whenever I looked over his direction, he either kept staring or quickly jeered his eyes toward the in-flight map. I thought these antics would never end. Staring out the window, looking down at the map… staring out the window, looking down at the map… To my relief, he ended up polishing his glasses and organizing, and reorganizing the assorted snacks on his seat-back table.
After several semi-awkward eye exchanges, I finally asked him his name. Having no IDEA what he said, I decided to leave it at that and keep to myself for the remaining 5 hours. But no… once he discovered that I was actually pretty friendly, he tried telling me about the bad weather outside and brought my attention to the loud noises. The only reason I have any idea that’s what he was saying is because I have a lot of practice with charades and sign language! He doesn’t speak English. So we went through all that before he started emphasizing his beard, motioning a fat belly, and pretending to have a child on his knee. I questioned, “You play Santa Claus in Tel Aviv?” “YES, YES!”
When the snacks came, we practiced reading. The words on the cracker package, the sentence on the napkin. The mini print on the water bottle. It actually got to be pretty fun!
I thought I’d had about as much fun this guy had to offer, when he amazed me again! About half way through the flight, he just popped his legs up into his chair and sat there with one leg around behind his neck, and the other wedged between the seat and the armrest. I’m telling you, it was nuts.
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