The End in Sight

End in Sight

So the last night in the OC I spent at my youngest daughter Kelly’s house, another night, another bed, all four kids and both grandkids were there for dinner, it was a hoot. I’ve made my peace with moving from my home of six decades and albeit difficult, I will visit again soon. My eldest Katey booked me first class on the way home, front of the plane, a place I’ve passed through numerous times but never been invited to stay. I’m feeling a bit snooty about the entire ordeal, I’ll probably scoff a bit at those in the coach sections, peasants.

I’m thinking of wearing my upscale mask, but realize I have no such thing, fundamental first class behavior and I’ve already blown it, and I know these upper crust are not my people, mine sit closer to the tail than the nose of the plane. As they get thrown bags of stale crackers I’ll be dining on a turkey sandwich on marble rye, maskless for much of the trip. I must remember to keep my pinkie finger out as I drink from the goblet of the chosen few.

I’ve been practicing my smug face, hoping to show disdain to those who walk by me towards the back of the plane, I don’t know if I have it in me, but I do believe it’s expected, so carry on I must. As I sit here, getting catered to, I realize first class really is quite different, I’ve been offered booze, an array of snack choices and of course our own restroom, those in the back I fail to see, as curtains are drawn between we, the important, and they, the expendable, la di da.

I don’t think I’m good at this however and I have a distinct, undeniable urge to go back to where I belong, yet at the same time I’m finally eye to eye with this phantom ‘gift horse’ and I dare not blink, for the dream will arise in smoke, and disappear for another sixty plus years. I had hopes of not having to wear a mask, but that was merely a flight of fantasy.

I once again denied the free booze offered me and I’m growing concerned, what has become of the scamp in me? I’m Irish for goodness sake, I may be drummed out, or is that bagpiped out, for errant behavior like this. I believe Cindy had planned for me to drive home from Spokane, so I’ll cling to that excuse for now. We are hitting some turbulence as I write, I didn’t believe that affected first class, but apparently we too can not escape it, though I suppose the back of the plane is vibrating much more violently or at least I would hope so.

I’ll be laying over in San Francisco for an hour or so, and although in the airport, I will watch where I walk, my new kicks need neither poop on them nor needles through them, I have a reputation now that I’m first class, one I didn’t have when I entered John Wayne airport. I’m hoping the paparazzi stays at bay, my hair is a fright, just kidding, I look fabulous, I am in first class after all. Now my empty stomach is calling for turkey on marble rye, and the sea salt popcorn chips aren’t cutting the mustard, I hate to complain, but fuck it, I’m in first class, it’s probably expected.

I’d ask around, but we, the plane royalty, don’t speak to each other, bad form I suppose. I did however extend my pinkie when drinking my bottled half water, so I’m starting to fit in and that scares the shit out of me. I’m thinking of taking my time getting down my carry on, just to piss off the peons, but with the curtains closed it wouldn’t be as fun. As we prepare to land, I’m realizing I have the two hour flight from San Francisco to Spokane and I go back to peon status myself, decisions must be made. A man can get too used to this easy life.

I was hoping for stock tips, learning the secret handshake and laughing at the inferior humans in Coach , but nothing, nada, zilch, still all quiet in the front. I’m starting to realize the rich are boring the piss out of me, I should have drank, behaved awkwardly, gave them something to talk about, I still have time.

As I sit here in the SFO I’m starting to realize this entire flying industry may be floundering as all the airports are empty, ghost towns that used to be bustling. I’m confused, did I miss the trend again, did the parade go bye while I slept, have the creeks ran dry and the mines emptied? Flying must have been a fluke, I don’t get it. Fuck me running, in my world “Who is still on first”, black and white movies still have appeal and people don’t self isolate, unless of course, you’ve hidden the last beer and you have it.

I only drank once in the OC and bought no smokes, so I’m sure Gavin is starving sans my tax money, but so be it, I’m a rebel, with seriously no cause, none whatsoever. It’s a shame really, I feigned many a cause in my day, most in the guise of drinking and carrying on and I’m not above doing it again but I will not be taxed to that extreme. He’s probably crying over spilled Pinot at one of his precious wineries by now, the twit.

We are to board in about thirty minutes and only three of us sit in terminal D8 waiting, maybe Alaska is flying us with Weather Czar John Kerry, he certainly has room in his private jet, probably a bottle or two of Gavin's finest as well. Wait, I think two more people are coming, nope they just walked by, I’ve been in much louder libraries and funeral parlors, this is insane. Maybe we are all first class, then who do I laugh at? It’s hard to look your nose down on anyone when the plane is carrying eight people, might as well put us in a hot air balloon and push us north, the thrill is gone away, and B.B. King saw this all coming in 1969, move over Nostradamus, you have company.

At this point all I really want is my turkey sandwich, on marble rye dammit! They come at me with wheat or white, we may have huge concerns, I could do without the turkey but I want my marble rye and that’s why they feed you during the flight, instead of as we board, service like that keeps the entire industry booming. We don’t have enough to play a pick up game of basketball.

My last leg started with a 747 and maybe twenty five people, tops, and I found my hidden tray in the arm rest, well done rich folks, they had me fooled. And this my friends is why I don’t belong in first class, on my way down I was thrilled to plug in my phone on the back of the seat in front of me, it was easy to find the screen to view a movie, though I abstained, and up here I can’t find shit, and of course being me I refuse to ask. I hoping I have enough juice left to call Cindy when and if this plane ever lands.

I got a decent roll, but it wasn’t marble rye, but I was so hungry I ate the whole damn thing without complaining, much. A hundred years back this trip would have taken a month or so and I bitch about waiting in a comfortable, air conditioned airport, and having sandwiches and hot cookies served to me, I’m turning into a bitch, (yea I know, some will say I’ve been a bitch for years, but bite me ass wipes). I turned down free drinks three times, sacred bonds of trust I’ve now broken, hopefully I’ll recover, must be Covid 21 or some such new strain, I don’t much like it.

Crack Egg Out