I took off from Chicago yesterday, and going through security, I saw this little Asian man with three cases of Jack Daniels from the duty free shops. All I can say is, if you're going to splurge in the duty-free shops (and get your money's worth out of it being duty-free), you might as well do it with Jack Daniel's. I'm sure the guy's some high-powered Japanese/Korean/Chinese businessman who needs copious amounts of whiskey to give as company presents, etc. But still~ that's a lot of booze!So, in O'Hare, waiting to board, I sat across from this big, loud Irish family. The daughter was sitting directly across from me, a little hefty, with sort of typical Irish coloring (dark hair, blue eyes, freckles) and wearing this big black down puffer jacket making her look twice as big as she actually is. In light of my joint writing adventure with Callie, The Fat American (inquire if you dare!) I thought about a companion piece to be published in France, which could be titled, L'Irlandaise Grande and set in Chicago. Well, then again, maybe not. I just really like the title.
Once I got on the plane, this American woman who had been standing behind me for much of the check-in/security/boarding says to me, "I love your hair." And then her husband says, "As we say here, it's like a woolly lamb." Was this supposed to be complimentary? Where is "here"? Chicago? The US? Did they think I'm Irish? Anyway, they were the average middle-aged couple going on some sort of vacation to the rolling hills of Ireland, possibly pandering to some sort of idealized version of Gaelic tradition, and discretely reminiscent family histories (i.e. that great-great-uncle Seamus came into New York harbor in 1892 from County Cork with nary a possession in the world but the shirt on his back - the only thing he *didn't* drink away in the taverns of Kanturk). Not that I'm a cynic, or that I don't wish them a good time. Nothing of that sort.
My choice of in-flight movie was Clash of the Titans. I was debating between that and Remember Me with Robert Pattinson but considering the bizarre dream I had about going to summer camp and being bitten...don't really need to go into that...I decided that I would watch action-flick rather than romantic-flick because I would be almost guaranteed to fall asleep through romantic drivel. Plus, I've been wanting to see the new Clash. And, all I have to say is: Sam Worthington is definitely the new "it" boy for action-adventure, ever since Avatar was so huge! He kind of reminds me of a Bruce Willis type - but Australian and better looking. I ended up falling asleep during that one anyway. Very disappointed there was no mechanical owl. Also, Liam Neeson ain't no Lawrence Olivier (even old man Olivier) and Ralph Fiennes is obviously being type-cast as the evil snake-like villain ever since he played Voldemort - or maybe he will just do anything if the price is right. I am also including The Reader in this type-casting thing. He was really mean to Kate Winslet's pseudo-sociopath ex-Nazi, which I thinkis saying something.
Once I got to Dublin, I got through security, and as I put my shoes back on, this little old man in a plaid jacket came up to me and asked for help finding his gate. On the ticket, he was pointing to the time the flight took off, so I figured maybe he was not familiar with flying? Or English? So, I told him to check his flight number and destination on the screens that are all around the airport, and that the gate is only listed on one of those monitors...because the airplanes normally don't know which gate they're flying into until they actually get to the airport. Well, the last I saw of him, he was standing in front of the screen checking it out, so hopefully he got to where he was going.
Looking for my own gate, I realized there was still 2 hours to go before I could board, so I went to have breakfast at this Starbucks-type place. All the workers have dialects of which I am ignorant and we are mutually unintelligible. I have to point to what I want, and they have to point to what I owe on the cash register. I really didn't think I'd have to deal with this until I got to France. So much for not having to worry about a language barrier in another English-speaking country!
<-- This is what I ordered. Egg & Mushroom sandwich that was really gross & weird. Complete w/brown sauce.
Once I got to Dublin, I got through security, and as I put my shoes back on, this little old man in a plaid jacket came up to me and asked for help finding his gate. On the ticket, he was pointing to the time the flight took off, so I figured maybe he was not familiar with flying? Or English? So, I told him to check his flight number and destination on the screens that are all around the airport, and that the gate is only listed on one of those monitors...because the airplanes normally don't know which gate they're flying into until they actually get to the airport. Well, the last I saw of him, he was standing in front of the screen checking it out, so hopefully he got to where he was going.
Looking for my own gate, I realized there was still 2 hours to go before I could board, so I went to have breakfast at this Starbucks-type place. All the workers have dialects of which I am ignorant and we are mutually unintelligible. I have to point to what I want, and they have to point to what I owe on the cash register. I really didn't think I'd have to deal with this until I got to France. So much for not having to worry about a language barrier in another English-speaking country!
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