On The Way To Boulder

And yet here I sit, as the result of the latest in a long string of ridiculous events called "life." It all began some 500,000 (or 5,000, depending on who you ask) years ago, when some very silly monkeys thought it would be a good idea to come out of the trees (or when two folks got booted out of paradise for seeking what modern folks are most unlikely to seek). Skip ahead a couple thousand years (astronomically, who will notice?), and here I am: aboard a marvel of modern physics, rattling and buzzing and making about as much racket as a rickety old 30 seat airplane, which it is. Yes, and not only do I have to put up with the skull crushing buzzing, but the air is most foul upon this giant metal gizmo. Perhaps a patron on the previous flight made use of his barf bag but was lax in the disposal thereof. Perhaps he missed his barf bag altogether. Or perhaps airplanes, like the glorified apes that design them, begin to smell queer with age.

For all the ingenuity of these glorified apes, they have never managed to grasp the sense in serving the pretzels before the drinks.

For joy, it has been announced that we will be landing shortly. Perhaps the air on the ground will be of a more enjoyable nature than this cabin air. Perhaps -- except "the ground" in this case is Los Angeles.

100 years ago, this marvel of modern physics would actually have seemed marvelous -- a flying machine -- not for kings or robber barons or duly elected government officials -- but even for the common man! And yet now, I view this miraculous vehicle as an annoyance on a tedious leg of a ridiculous journey. What sort of annoying miracles of modern physics will travelers be pressed to tolerate in another 100 years?

There are some people who tell us we need not worry about the tedious nature of modern life 100 years from now. There are a few different groups that espouse this view, with vastly divergent reasonings. But the conclusions are all the same: soon, humanity as we know it will come to an end.

I just had dinner at the airport. Having dinner at the airport is like having dinner at a good restaurant, except that at a good restaurant, the food tastes good. Why is that? Because at a good restaurant, the chef enjoys his job. Think about that for awhile.

Some people believe that if -- in his last breath before the warden closes the circuit -- a murdered and a rapist repents of his sins and asks for the forgiveness of the Lord, even he can be accepted into the Kingdom of God. If this is so, what's the point of living a good life? And if there is no god at all, what then?

Now I'm on a big plane. Planes that go farther are bigger. The farther away you get, the more people want to go there.

It must be my lucky day. The man with the baby did not sit next to me.

Some old people smell like mothballs. Maybe it's just their clothes.

One of the groups of people that is worried about the state of life in 100 years is the same bunch that fancies themselves unrelated to the apes. They figure that same self righteous character that kicked a couple folks out of paradise for acting like monkeys is going to come back and destroy the world. How can he do that? Easy, he made the world. Why would he do that? Because he told us not to act like monkeys, but we did anyway. Maybe after he busts up the world, he'll make a new one, and make the people more like snails than monkeys.

Nobody came to claim the window seat. Now I know it's my lucky day.

A snail is a slimy creature that carries his house on his back. Someone once said, "wherever you go, there you are." For a snail, it's "wherever you go, there home is." Some people don't have homes. They sleep on the street or on park benches or under trees until the police tell them to leave. Leave to where? If they were nails, they wouldn't have to leave, they'd already be home. For some people, there's no place like home, anywhere.

Looks like it isn't really my lucky day. The owner of the window seat showed up after all. He looked as if perhaps he had run through the airport. Maybe it was his unlucky day. He said I could keep the window seat anyways. That isn't luck, that's human kindness.

Snails are not curious like monkeys. If you put a monkey in a room with a bright red thing, he will go over and inspect the bright red thing. He wants to know what it is, and what he can do with it. He will pick it up, toss it around, and have a lot of fun.

If you put a snail in a room with a bright red thing, he won't play with it. He'll slide right by it without even stopping, leaving an icky trail along the way. But he'll be home throughout the journey.

Also: snails don't have human kindness.

This flight doesn't have foul air. It has free-TV.

Another group of people worried about the future are the survivalists. They collect canned food, guns and knives, and learn how to live off the fat of the land. They don't all know how the world is going to come to its demise, but they are pretty sure it's going to be soon, and when it happens, they'll be ready. They will survive.

Some people don't need crossbows and guns and canned food and any filed manuals to survive. The homeless people with no shells on their backs survive, even without free-TV. Why do they do it? Perhaps they are curious to see what comes next.

Now we're taking off. I hope that goes well.

Out my window, I can see a miniature city of lights surrounded by pale clouds and the deep blue sea. It's a prettier picture than any I've seen in a museum, though not as well ventilated. The wing of the plane is half way between the full moon and the lights and clouds and the deep blue sea. Moonlight shines on the wing tip, moves up the wing as we turn. I'd like to go to the moon someday. I bet a lot of people would like to go to the moon. After all, it's pretty far away: and the farther you get, the more people want to go there.

The sun is also pretty far away. Did you know it takes 8 minutes for light from the sun to reach the earth? If the sun decided to blow up tomorrow, you wouldn't know about it until 8 minutes after the fact. Talk about old news!

After the sun, the next closes star is about 100 light years away. (A light year is the distance that a smidgen of light can travel in 1 earth year. In just 1 second, that smidgen can go 186,000 miles. Light years are even bigger!) If there were people or monkeys or snails living around that star, and it blew up tomorrow, we wouldn't be able to mourn for our neighbors for 100 years. Talk about old news!

The free-TV just came on. I don't gave to watch it, though, because I brought some music. Someone once said: "music is our life's foundation, and will succeed all the nations to come." Who said that? The Pet Shop Boys. I bought their CD.

Right Now I'm listening to Simon and Garfunkel. What do they have to say? "Koo koo ka choo."

I guess this is going to be a book. I haven't thought of a plot, I suppose the plot is still developing. I did think of a title, but since I don't know what this book is about, I'm not sure if it's appropriate. Here it is: "Musings on the Obvious: The Conversation of Simple Simon."

I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told.

It looks like even on free-TV there's commercials. There aren't any commercials with Simon and Garfunkel.

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade and he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down.

That's not mine, Simon and Garfunkel said it first. I hope I'm not breaking any laws by saying it here.

The program on free-TV is Jeopardy. I thought I saw Arnold Schwarzeneggar as one of the contestants, but it was just poor lighting. Who is Arnold Schwarzeneggar? He's a movie star.

Another gang of people that worries about the future is the scientists. They don't just worry about the future or make idle predictions -- they make theories. Lots of these theories predict the demise of the human race. I don't know what they say about snails and monkeys, but they'll probably take one in the shorts too, when the shit hits the fan.

The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls, and tenement halls.

I wish I could write like that.

This is no rinky dink hick town crop duster like that other plane I came in on, I just got a box with a sandwich, chips, and a candy bar. And guess what: that's before my drink! Perhaps there is hope for humankind after all!

One of the theories of the scientists says that there's a big hole in the atmosphere, and it's getting bigger and bigger. The atmosphere is the part of the sky that keeps out the nasty bits of starlight like X rays and gamma rays and ultraviolet light. But all this bad stuff come in through the hole, and if the hole is over your town, you could end up like roast turkey. Or fried chicken - colonel's extra crispy recipe.

The sandwich in my airplane food box is a turkey sandwich. That's one turkey that doesn't have to worry about holes in the atmosphere!

Some people eat snails. I guess they were curious as to how snails taste. I don't think snails are curious about the taste of people. I'm not curious about the taste of either. Or monkeys, for that matter.

What is a movie star? A movie star is like an actor, but more. In a movie or a play, an actor pretends to be someone that the audience cares about. A movie star, on the other hand, is cared about by the audience in real life. That's right, even when they aren't pretending to be interesting, people care about the details of movie stars' lives! I don't think there have been many homeless people who got to be movie stars, although a lot of movie stars have pretended to be homeless people.

It's better to be a movie star pretending to be a homeless person than to be a real-life homeless person. Movie stars get to stop pretending and go back to their big houses and pretty spouses. Real-life homeless people have to go on pretending that they aren't real people.

I do not recall any snails that got to be movie stars, although several movies have starred monkeys. This is because monkeys are cute, whereas snails just leave a trail of slime.

Looking out the window, all I can see is the light n the end of the wing. For all I know, we might have gone through the hole in the atmosphere and are about to land on the moon. Wouldn't that be something!

Simon and Garfunkel would rather be a sparrow than a snail. I wonder why?

I thought it was a sign of progress that I got my food before my drink. But now they are collecting the food boxes, and I haven't gotten my drink yet. Back to the stone age!

Another creature that is said to leave a trail of slime: the lawyer. I have cousins that are lawyers, but I've never noticed a trail of slime behind them. And they don't carry their homes on their backs. When they come to visit, they stay at a hotel.

I did not eat my chips. I am not going to eat them, either, because I am not hungry. They will most likely be thrown out. On a planet with so many hungry people, we sure throw out a lot of food!

Has this gotten interesting yet? I still haven't come any closer to a plot or a title. Apparently, the book is about my trip, homeless people, snails, monkeys, and the end of the world. I hope that's interesting enough that you won't miss a plot!

I've said a lot about monkeys and snails and people with no homes anywhere, no even on their backs, and the end of the world, but I still haven't said why I'm up in the air on a plane. Don't worry, I'll get to that.

Although a lot of scientists believe there's a hole in the sky that will turn us all into roast turkeys, not all of them agree upon the cause or cure of this hole. Some of them used to think it was hairspray. Today, some think hole in the sky are caused by air conditioner fluid and car exhaust. Another gang of scientists believe the hole is caused by volcanoes. Which bunch of scientists you believe seems to have a lot to do with who you voted for for president.

That's funny, because the president doesn't have much to do with holes in the sky.

I say "the president," but I should probably say "the president of the United States," because there are other presidents in the world, so you might not know which president I mean. The president of the United States is often called simply "the president," especially by Americans, because they, and the president, consider the president to be essentially the Emperor of the Earth. The president of the United States never says that he is the Emperor of the Earth, or even that he wants to be the Emperor of the Earth.

One time, a president of a place called Germany said that he wanted to be the Emperor of the Earth. To prove his point, he killed a whole bunch of people that he didn't like. The president of the united states didn't much mind that the president of Germany killed a bunch of people -- but he got upset when that filthy Kraut pretended to be the Emperor of the Earth! So the president of the United States killed a bunch of people that *he* did not like. After a little more of this, the president of Germany killed himself. And that was the end of that.

To prove that he was the Emperor of the Earth, the president did not kill any monkeys or snails -- at least not on purpose. He only killed people. Those are the "rules of war."

If anyone ever got bored enough to read all this, they might wonder: What does he mean by this stuff? Just what I said.

Now we're about to land. I hope that goes well.

It's dark and rainy out. When we land, I have to find a rental car and find my way to a hotel in a town I've never before visited, in the dark and in the rain. That's independence. That's the American way!

Wouldn't it be funny if the plane crashed? Then this, my finest work, the cause of my current cramp, the terminus of a four year writer's block, would be lost forever. But don't worry, we won't crash. It's my lucky day.

Yesterday was also my lucky day. Yesterday I got a check for $123.10, a $500 scholarship arrived for me, and my employer deposited my paycheck in my bank account. Many people equate financial success with luck. It's the American way!

Thirteen pages! How's that for luck!

As it turned out, it was emphatically *not* my lucky day. The details are pretty dull, but because of a miscommunication I wasn't able to get a rental car at the airport and had to take a cab to my hotel. It was my first cab ride, at least that I can recall. The driver asked if he could smoke, and with his windows down, it didn't bother me at all. See? That's one of the details, and it's pretty dull.

The cab driver told me that he had once been knocked out while boxing. He had seen a bright light, and heard voices, and walked toward the light until he woke up. I was knocked out once, but I don't remember seeing lights or voices. But I do remember the object that laid me out. It wasn't a boxing glove, I wasn't boxing. It was a big piece of wood on a solidly constructed wooden playset. I wasn't watching where I was going.

There's a life lesson: watch where you're going.

I try not to write while driving. It takes more skill than I have to operate a pen and a motor vehicle while watching where I am going. I ended up with a rental car the day after I landed, and did a good bit of driving. When I turned it back in today, I had driven 200 miles, even though the airport was only about 40 miles from the hotel. I drive far and wide to see what I can see, but always maintain a sense -- if not a map -- of the way home. Perhaps that's a metaphor on life or something.

My cab driver told me that he believes in witches and demons. He informed me that he had even driven some around. I guess a personal aversion to evil spirits doesn't get in the way of paying the bills.

Oh look, the sky is coming out! Hurrah for the sun!

Listen: Here's how to spot a witch or any other person possessed by evil: dark clothes, long hair, or an overall dark look about them. If you see such a person, proceed with caution -- they may be servants of evil. Or so said my cabbie, and I'm sure he's had a lot more experience with people -- evil or no -- than I.

The plane looks to be about the same size as the one I flew into Denver on, only older, and no free-TV.

While I was driving around, I had the radio on. I heard a song that was big around 10 years ago. I had heard of the song, but had never heard it. It's a bout a guy that is able to remove his willie. He considers this an advantage -- until one day he gets drunk at a party and can't remember the next day where he left his pecker. Eventually, he has to buy his frank back from a street vendor. The song is called "Detachable Penis." It really isn't much of a song, once you've heard it.

You may have noticed that the majority of the last few pages has been written in the past tense. I will pretend that you are wondering why, and graciously answer. Most of my weekend has been spent either in a car or in my hotel. In the car, I prefer to watch the road and the scenery. In my hotel room, I had free-TV.

So far, I haven't said much. Here are some of the things I haven't mentioned so far: why I was on an airplane, where I was going, what was silly about it, what decisions I made, where I drove, why I'm writing this, what all this is about, and the meaning of life. Don't worry, I'll get to that.

But first: another doomsday group. This group is larger than the others, and includes members of some of the other groups. This is the Y2K bug group, which thinks that the world computer systems will go haywire on 1/1/2000, due to a software bug. All the money in all the banks will be lost. Nukes will be launched. Planes will fall out of the sky. Regularly scheduled television programming will be interrupted. And so on. I'm not too excited about the nukes and the planes, but it wouldn't bother me greatly if all the world's money disappeared. Does that make me a commie? Nah.

Another funny thing about flying: they explain in meticulous details, with both illustrations and demonstrations, how to operate the airplane seat belt, but they don't really show you how to use your seat-cushion-as-a-flotation-device. I've flown a respectable number of times, and I'm still not sure that if the shit were to hit the fan, I'd be able to use my seat-cushion-as-a-flotation-device. Any idiot can use a seat belt.