Travel Stories

The Common Man has had to hear a lot of ridiculous things in the past week while journeying to and from his home state of Minnesota (for the 3rd time this summer). He is thankful, however, that relatively little of the inanity has come from anyone in any way connected with the Motherland.

The first leg of the journey, during which The Common Man was accompanied by The Uncommon Wife and The Boy, was marked by the whimsical musings of an 89-year old native of Yorkshire, England. She informed The Common Man, in between her interesting musings about being a radar operator in WWII and a G.I. bride afterward and her kernels of advice for raising up The Boy to be a right proper gentleman, that all the Arab states hated the U.S. because of the freedoms that Americans enjoy and that the Chinese were trying to poison us all (meanwhile, seated behind and in front of her were two people of Asian descent). She also fretted constantly that "all the fat people" will steal all the wheelchairs before she could claim one that she had reserved upon disembarking. To this end, she made The Common Man and several flight attendants promise to bring her bag to her after she made a mad dash from the back of the plane to the door in order to secure rolling passage from this plane to her next (a plan that, sadly, failed in its execution because, it turns out, two hundred able-bodied passengers are much more spry at leaping from their seats than an 89-year old with a bad hip).

That said, The Common Man acknowledges that certain 89-year olds have earned the right to be pains in the ass, because of their many years of continued existence, in spite of all this society does to try to kill them (booze, drugs, cigarettes, fatty food, crazy drivers, etc.). And The Common Man can even sympathize with the average 89-year old who is bitter and confused that the America that they grew up with seems to be gone, and who rants a little at those who they deem to be the culprits of the change. They aren't right, but they are harmless. By the way, she is supporting John Edwards for President.

Our first attempt to return to State College being rebuffed (bad weather and a late plane would have caused us to miss our connection in Detroit), The Common Man and family returned via Atlanta yesterday. Though disappointed at the delay, the trip was made entirely worthwhile by the Atlanta-bound passenger who asked the woman behind him in line, "Where's your funny accent?" when she revealed that she was from British Columbia. The Canadian woman had to tell her new geographically-challenged friend that British Columbia is not actually part of Great Britain, nor even on the same continent and that the most they do is "elongate their vowels" and say "aboot". This, naturally, led to many "Do you live anywhere near that Stonehenge thing?" and "Let me ask you a question, do you guys really drink warm beer?" jokes between The Common Man and The Uncommon Wife for the rest of the flight.

On the next leg of the journey, the flight attendant (Brenda) and the entire front row of the plane got to have a chuckle at the expense of the living, breathing stereotype of a fat, drunk, obnoxious, and lewd convention-goer (complete with arm-pit stains and small black mustache) who a) tried to order a Martini, b) apologized in advance to an Asian woman in case his bag fell out of the overhead compartment and hit her on the head, c) argued passionately that he would want a pilot who "had had a few drinks the night before" so that "they would be nice and relaxed" the next morning for their flight out, d) loudly announced to the Brenda that no one was "joining the Mile High Club" in the plane's single lavatory in the back, and e) tried to finagle a meeting in that same bathroom with her to join said Mile High Club or, barring that, figure out what hotel she would be staying at in State College and invite her to dinner.

Good times. Good times. It's amazing what interesting people The Common Man gets to meet when he travels. God bless the Brendas in the world and all the ridiculousness that they have to put up with. The Boy, by the way, slept, ate, and smiled most of the time on all four legs of our trip, and was a hit with travelers, airport personel, and flight attendants wherever he went.