Saturday, June 12, 2010

My Karma Ran Over My Dogma

3:00 p.m., Saturday June 12:

Blogging quickly from the USAirways gate, about to board a flight to Los Angeles. I was originally slated to fly out at 2 p.m., stopping in Phoenix for an hour. They screwed up and made it impossible to catch my connection. But by some twist of fate, the airline paged me and offered to put me on a later, direct flight that would get me to LA at my original landing time. Awesome. Then I look at my new ticket and see it says, 1D "First Class." I look at the woman at the counter, and she simply whispers "You were a sweetheart, you never saw me, don't mention my name or I'll get in trouble." Awesome! "I was never here, I never met you, but I love you" I tell her. Feeling full of luck and with a bit of swagger, I ask at the information booth if USAir has a first class lounge. Yes, I'm a rube whose never flown first class, and I plan on milking this ticket for all the perks it's worth. I'm directed to take a secret elevator to the third floor. WHO KNEW the airport had a third floor! The doors open, and the elevator is immediately filled with the aroma of gardenias and orchids from the lounge's reception desk. "I don't know if I'm allowed to be here, but I thought I'd try," I say to the size 0 supermodel behind the desk. She looks at my ticket, asks if I arrived from Europe, and then denies me entry upon getting my answer. *Note to self: whenever a skinny broad asks if you've arrived from Europe, say "yes." I return to the aromatic lift (that's British for elevator, you peasants) with my head hung in shame, as Eurotrash in ripped jeans and sweat-pitted T's look on in disdain. "Bugger off" they seem to be saying in their minds (British for F.U., you peasant!). So now I sit at the gate, with my prized golden ticket, waiting to board and sink my suburban housewife ass into a plush, extra-wide window seat with extra leg room, built in TV screen, free dinner and wine served on real plates in real glasses...typing to the background noise of two SCREAMING and kicking toddler twins sitting behind me, kicking my chair. Their mother is oblivious, talking on her cell about Milan and D&G. Crap. No on in coach talks about Milan and D&G. Yep. First class. I see her ticket. First class, seat 2D. Right behind me, with her screaming tantrum twins. I'm thinking of spending $12 for a bottle of Benadryl at the airport shop, slipping it into her purse, and hoping she gets the hint. Karma's a bitch.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Metal Poisons and Mental Plungers

Between working two jobs and various volunteer work, I’ve had very little time to write for pleasure. I was lamenting this fact recently to a friend, who then replied that he had the perfect topic of my next blog entry. He sent me the following
news story.

McDonald’s recalled 12 million "Shrek Forever After 3D" drinking glasses because they’re tainted with cadmium, a heavy metal that when ingested can be dangerous. When I reminded my friend that mine is a humor blog, and heavy metal poisoning ain’t exactly funny, he simply said, “Spin it.”

Well, the level of cadmium in the cartoon characters on the exterior of McDonald’s glasses is not toxic. In fact, unless your kid has a habit of obsessively licking the outside of their drinkware, these glasses would cause no harm. And McDonald’s should be credited for swiftly recalling them as soon as they learned of the contamination. Well done. But, McDonalds, if you really have the America's best interest at heart, try recalling the 800-calorie “Angus Bacon & Cheese” burger. (Of course, just typing that sentence made me want one. Damned diet.)

You can look at this story as a reason to be furious at a corporation, or as a reason to admire it. Yeah, some underlings were pretty sloppy in their testing before these things went out. But then again, the company could have dragged their feet for months or even fought a recall, and they didn’t. This story is all so “small potatoes” compared to the environmental disaster in the gulf that I think it’s only worthy of a shoulder shrug, and not the hysterics I’ve heard some moms devoting it. If you really want to fret over children being exposed to danger, think back your own, or your parents’, childhoods for a moment.

I remember taking a nap on the backseat of our car before seat belts were mandatory and getting thrown the floor when a car cut us off. Before safety locks on back doors were available, my younger brother once opened the car door while it was moving and hung onto the handle as his legs dangled out. Of course this was the same kid who climbed over the front seat, put the parked car in gear and drove down a hill at age 5. And had to go to the emergency room after lodging peas up his nose. Not a bright child, although he never washed his hands in the toilet as far as I recall.

I remember unzipping my beanbag chair so I could hide the diary professing my love for Donny Osmond amid the billions of pellets, and more than once inhaling a few dozen of the most-likely toxic microballs. I remember playing hide and seek in the trunk of a car and falling asleep. Before mandatory car seats, my kid brother and sister would both sit on my father’s lap while he was driving and help him steer the car. They also ate entire Play-Doh meals and cut off each other’s bangs with scissors they’d found lying around. The fact that the four of us made it to adulthood is impressive. Wait...Now that I think about it, going back a generation (long before safety caps and shrink-wrapped boxes), my mother once ate an entire bottle of candy-flavored aspirin. And my father wandered onto a San Diego highway when he was two to play in a cardboard box. How the #$%@ were the four of us ever even born?!

But I’ve digressed.
I've "spinned" out of control my friend. But at least I'm blog-unclogged.