Pass the cream, please
March 7, 2017 § 28 Comments
One of the best ways to make sure you get plenty of rest after a weekend of hard profamateuring is to take a trip. We decided to go visit family in Houston, about as exotic a place as you can go if you live in Los Angeles.
We sat around at the gate in LAX and appreciated the different culture, as most of the passengers appeared to be Texan. Whereas people from LA wear clothes that are about 25 years too young for them, people from Texas are easily identified by their college branding.
We happened to be lounging next to a fellow who had a deep affinity for Texas A&M. He was in his forties, rounder than tall, and had on an Aggie gimme cap. Below the cap he wore a maroon button down short sleeve shirt that said “Aggies.”
Below that was a pair of starched, high-waisted Wranglers, held in place with a big leather belt that tself was fastened with a giant A&M buckle. In his hip pocket was a maroon leather wallet. I am pretty sure I know what was embossed on it.
We squeeezed onto the Southwest cattle car and since we were C-26 the plane was pretty full. When I put my small backpack in the bin I accidentally hit a guy in the head with it. “I’m so sorry,” I said.
“No problem,” he cheerfully asnwered. He was an older fellow and very nice so I was even sorrier, but in my sorrowfulnesss I mistakenly stepped on his foot.
“Oh!” I said. “I’m so sorry!”
“No problem,” he said, still smiling, which made me feel worse still.
The plane got aloft and the lady next to me asked me if I had been saved. “For what?” I asked.
“Has your soul been saved?” she clarified.
“How would I know?”
“Have you accepted Jesus as your personal savior?” she pressed.
This felt like karma for hitting the nice man in the head and stepping on his foot. I looked at my watch and figured it would kill some time and maybe count for penance. “Could you explain?”
“Jesus died for our sins. All of us. Imagine being in the desert and you’re dying of thirst, that’s what it’s like living without Jesus. You are thirsting for him with body and soul, crying out for Jesus and when you let him in it’s like water to a man dying of thirst. You have to let him in to satisfy your thirst.”
This went on for a long time and the more she talked about thirsting and needing and letting him in and giving yourself to him and the ecstasy of submitting to his love I couldn’t help but wonder if she was secretly telling me the plot for her new adult video.
Eventually the flight attendant came by with coffee and gave me some with two creamer packs. If you are an airplane coffee drinker you know that nothing is deadlier than a creamer pack because they are sealed and when the plane goes up they become pressurized and if you’re not careful they will jet-spray you with cream when you pull the tab.
The first one was okay but the second creamer had the tell-tale puffy top which meant it was going to spray like Old Faithful. Pointing it away from me I peeled back the tab and out came a white geyser that went clear across the aisle and splattered against the back of the leg of the nice old gentleman.
Jesus Jane saw it and began laughing, and the Aggie, who saw it too, almost choked on his fifteenth package of honey-roasted sugar-coated peanuts. Sheepishly I tapped the old fellow on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir,” I said.
He turned around and saw it was me, and smiled so kindly. “Yes?”
“I’m so sorry but I just sprayed cream all over the back of your pants leg.”
Since this is an unusual greeting, he checked his leg, and sure enough it was spattered with cream. He took his napkin and wiped it off, smiling. “No worries,” he said. “No worries at all.”
Jesus Jane got back to reciting her adult video script, I sank into the chair while the Aggie chewed peanuts, loudly, and we eventually touched down, but not before dropping into severe wind and rain that tossed the giant plane about like a rag doll. At some point Jesus Jane had turned green and was moaning, “Save me, Jesus,” beause it was the roughest landing I’d ever been through.
The nice old man was fine, of course. “Have a great day!” he said to me as I deplaned.
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