Snow splash stops airline
I should be on a plane, bound for Cabos San Lucas with a friend. I packed last night for 10 days in Mexico, then checked my email to find the airline -- which, like ever other I've flown, shall remain nameless, unless you think about continental drift -- had cancelled my flight.
The airlines used to take real snow storms in stride -- this so-called storm hasn't begun to stick to the pavement. Now, the airlines are so frightened of bad publicity, it's as if they won't attempt to fly if the weather isn't perfectly clear, with no precipitation forecasts. Did the pilots forget how to fly with instruments? Even I know how to fly a plane, albeit not a jet, under clear skies.
Reminds me of when I learned to drive: my parents wouldn't let me behind the wheel if there were the slightest cloud on the horizon. Came time to take my road test, it was cloudy and pouring rain. I almost hit another car as I pulled out of the parking space to get into traffic. Needless to say, my three-point turn took four; I hit the curb when attempting to parallel park; and I had to retake the test another day.
These days, I could drive the car that parks itself. (I think it's a Lexus, though that is not a silhouette I recognize.) That doesn't interest me nearly so much as one that drives itself would. According to the commercials, the new Volvo reminds absent-minded drivers to stop before they hit someone. That is my kind of car, one that plays automatic co-pilot. That is a silhouette I recognize, one I want. It's the one that falls under the category of public service.
It would be lovely to have an automatic co-pilot in my life, someone or something to intervene and take over when my mind goes on cruise control. This is the major drawback to being single: the only person available to take up the slack is the same person who needs the rest. Granted, this is predicated on the concept that a marriage of two people, whether de facto or de jure is a partnership, which, from what I hear, doesn't quite seem to pan out that way.
Men are still considered "good husbands" if they "help out" around the house or with the children, while women are the ones directing the homefront, regardless of what responsibilities each spouse has in the world-at-large.
This division of labor is less discordant with my friends who are involved in gay partnerships. Yet the potential discord would be one reason why I live alone: there is no one to disappoint me.
In a sense, I am flying the airplane and I am the airport. In the air or on the ground, the one who declares it's a snow day is me.
The airlines used to take real snow storms in stride -- this so-called storm hasn't begun to stick to the pavement. Now, the airlines are so frightened of bad publicity, it's as if they won't attempt to fly if the weather isn't perfectly clear, with no precipitation forecasts. Did the pilots forget how to fly with instruments? Even I know how to fly a plane, albeit not a jet, under clear skies.
Reminds me of when I learned to drive: my parents wouldn't let me behind the wheel if there were the slightest cloud on the horizon. Came time to take my road test, it was cloudy and pouring rain. I almost hit another car as I pulled out of the parking space to get into traffic. Needless to say, my three-point turn took four; I hit the curb when attempting to parallel park; and I had to retake the test another day.
These days, I could drive the car that parks itself. (I think it's a Lexus, though that is not a silhouette I recognize.) That doesn't interest me nearly so much as one that drives itself would. According to the commercials, the new Volvo reminds absent-minded drivers to stop before they hit someone. That is my kind of car, one that plays automatic co-pilot. That is a silhouette I recognize, one I want. It's the one that falls under the category of public service.
It would be lovely to have an automatic co-pilot in my life, someone or something to intervene and take over when my mind goes on cruise control. This is the major drawback to being single: the only person available to take up the slack is the same person who needs the rest. Granted, this is predicated on the concept that a marriage of two people, whether de facto or de jure is a partnership, which, from what I hear, doesn't quite seem to pan out that way.
Men are still considered "good husbands" if they "help out" around the house or with the children, while women are the ones directing the homefront, regardless of what responsibilities each spouse has in the world-at-large.
This division of labor is less discordant with my friends who are involved in gay partnerships. Yet the potential discord would be one reason why I live alone: there is no one to disappoint me.
In a sense, I am flying the airplane and I am the airport. In the air or on the ground, the one who declares it's a snow day is me.
Labels: Driving, flying, technical difficulties
posted by alice, uptown at 11:36 AM
1 Comments:
As Tom Waits sings in "Better Off without a Wife," you must be strong to go it alone.
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