Not so many years ago, it is believed, an old man who was blind and living alone on Long Island in New York sat down in his favorite chair in his living room to listen to some television. The set was turned up rather loud authorities say, which at first might seem odd because of what we know about the blind having an acute sense of hearing. Nevertheless, the volume blared, and if it’s like your set and mine, it blared even louder on those insufferable car commercials. Once again, let us give thanks for the blessing of the mute button.
The old man’s name was Vincenzo Ricardo, and when police went to his home to check on a report of a busted water pipe, they found Mr. Ricardo’s mummified body, sitting in that same chair, with the same TV screaming those same great price-slashing car deals. Whatever happened to rest in peace?
Of course, many questions remain about such a rare occurrence. For instance, I’ve always been living under the assumption that my utilities will be turned off if I don’t pay my bill. Maybe it’s different in New York.
A morgue assistant said he could see Mr. Ricardo’s face and that he still had hair on his head, the body being preserved because of the home’s low humidity.
Obviously, this could never happen in Arkansas, even if Entergy wasn’t paying attention. Here, humidity rules, and death soon removes any traces of the dearly departed’s “natural state.”
•••
The attractive blonde stewardess welcomed me aboard with what sounded like a German accent.
“Gutentaag,” I thought to myself, remembering my daughter’s friend Julie, who had taught me the greeting.
Suddenly a loud computerized voice that sounded like the robot from “Lost in Space,” began yelling, “Wind sheAr, wind sheAr!” That was followed by, “Terrain, terrain, pull up, pull up!”
I looked at the stewardess for comfort and reassurance. She smiled and laughed a little before saying, “That always gets to the passengers.”
Which wasn’t exactly the reassurance I was looking for.
I turned around and was at my seat: 1-A.
I don’t usually fly first class, which always makes it a treat when I’m able to. This being one of those times, I sat back in my spacious and comfortable seat and looked out the window at the clear blue sky.
It looked to be shaping up into a beautiful day, hopefully void of any wind shear and terrain.
The stewardess asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I hadn’t planned on having any booze, but after hearing the plane’s warning system, I ordered a double Bloody Mary.
So there I sat in my large, comfortable seat, sipping my cocktail, not getting a lot of smiles from the coach-bound passengers as they moved past, when two young men who were traveling together sat next to me.
The larger of the two was decked out in Tennessee Volunteer apparel, and he seemed more than uncomfortable about being there. His friend, who was noticeably enjoying his buddy’s discomfort, turned and told me that after a night in Little Rock, they were heading off to Japan, and it was his buddy’s first time in an airplane.
“Well, he’ll have lots of time to get used to it,” I said, while thinking I was glad the poor guy had missed out on the disaster warnings a few minutes earlier.
Thirty minutes later we were landing, softly I might add, in Little Rock.
No matter how safe air travel is said to be, for me it’s always a great feeling when it comes to an end.
I said “Auf Wiedersehen” to the stewardess and headed off to claim my luggage that probably wasn’t there.