Eight days till takeoff. I have an intense fear of flying, so the plane crash in Denver a few days ago really cheered me up. No one died, and only severe injuries were reported when the plane skidded off the runway and caught on fire. I don’t mind little blackened bits so much—hell, I’m clumsy enough that letting me near a barbeque usually results in the fresh scent of human flesh burning--- but I am hoping that any plane crash that occurs will have the sense to let me see Europe first. Let me go down in flames after I’ve seen Nero’s home.
For the last three weeks, I’ve moaned about the cold of Italy and Paris—it snowed in Paris last week—and there have been different responses from different people. Most people tell me to dress in layers, as if that was an idea that had never crossed my mind as a viable strategy to fight the cold. Others have told me that silk long johns are a wonderful way to stay toasty. Yup, we know that from going to Paris a few years ago. No one has told me the truth, which is that we’re going to be damn cold sometimes, but it will all be worth it for the chance to glimpse a few thousand representations of that guy with his hands nailed to a cross. As far as I know, though, Jerusalem wasn’t cold at Easter-time, so I’m thinking that Jesus at least felt warm while he was tortured to death.
And he wasn’t on a death plane filled with screaming babies and the invigorating scent of burning upholstery. Not that I have a chip on my shoulder about Jesus and all the religious art we’re about to see. Or should I say a splinter in my eye?
I thought it was especially nice of the Holy See to recently vote in support of the UN Resolution against the imprisonment, torture and execution of gay people, although he said he did it with reluctance. Yeah, only reluctantly oppose the execution of homosexuals, but let’s protect the right of child molesters to live and even hide within your working ranks.
The Vatican's vote for the resolution did make me feel better about patronizing their little fiefdom, though, until I also read that the Pope gave an address yesterday in which he said that saving people from homosexuality was just as important as saving the rainforest. According to Pope Benedict, the human race is about to self-destruct—I suppose from our vast under-population of the planet. My friend Benny—as I like to call him—warned that gender theory blurred the distinction between men and women and could thus lead to the “self-destruction” of the human race. Yeah, I can see that happening any day now. If we stopped procreating right this very minute, we would probably only have 75 billion people too many on this planet in fifty years, instead of 100 billion. Those rascally fags and dykes are trying to sneak human annihilation into the mix by refusing to reproduce, the bastards. Next thing you know, they’ll be going to work on their bikes as an underhanded way of ruining the oil industry.
My other obsession has involved the carry on luggage that MK insists we must pack our entire wardrobe into. When we were in Paris, we stayed in one hotel, and so the idea of two suitcases and two carry on pieces of luggage, while ridiculous, was manageable. This trip, we’ll be hauling ourselves and our clothes/shoes/toiletries/gee gaws to four cities. It’s not unreasonable to expect to be overwhelmed if we are hauling the 50 pound versions of Godzilla everywhere we go.
But. We’re supposed to dress in layers. I’m not sure where those layers are supposed to be packed. I’ve thought of shipping clothes to myself, but we’d still end up having to drag them from Rome to Florence to Venice to Paris. One friend suggested bringing my most ragged, pathetic underwear with me, and then discarding it as I go—thus lightening the load. Because underwear weighs so much. And, frankly, it’s not as if I have an entire drawer filled with silky, special panties. Most of my underwear is ragged and pathetic. That’s what underwear is for.
Oh well. I suppose I could always use it as a hat to keep my head warm.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Dear Jane,
I laughed out loud, literarlly, at the idea of us queers subverting the oil companies' revenues by riding our bikes to work. (Yeah, right! As if we had jobs to go to! As if we weren't all trust-fund babies who have nothing to do all day othern than mince from tea-dance to art gallery opening to yoga class, in our chauffered town cars.)
And I was proud to see myself indirectly quoted as the friend who recommended the "disposable undies" method of packing lightly. Scoff if you wish, but you'd be surprised how much lighter you feel each time you discard one of those stained, stretched-out garments into the hotel garbage bin. I know that *I* feel incredibly cool each and every time I do this: I know how to pack! I am making more room in my suitcases, to bring home groovy new items from exotic locations! And furthermore, when I get home from a trip, all of my underwear is respectable. If *I* *were* to go down in a plane crash on the way home from Europe, and had to be rushed to hospital and have what remained of my clothes cut off in the ER so the doctors could try to save me, I'd be happy knowing that my undergarments suggested I was a nice girl. If you and MK don't want that for yourselves, well, you have only yourselves to blame.
Love,
Gillian
damn i love this. have a great time jane. wear layers! lol.
Thanks for the chuckling you have provided, allowing me to be distracted form my chilled blue fingers. The cost-saving measure of keeping the heat down is overrated.
But, my advice - mail at least the gee-gaws back to yourself as you go along. Since you will be gone so long, mail them to somebody else's house. This way won't weigh you down or break, and getting mail from foreign countries is tres chic!
Post a Comment