Come Fly with Me
Last night we watched one of the funniest movies I have ever seen; Come Fly with Me.
Actually, I watched this romp in technicolor extravaganza while The Husband was obsessing further about bushy bulges - right next to me on the couch thanks to our wireless Internet(s).
Wireless Internet rocks. Rocks the boat too, as only the laptop is hooked to it and we sometimes squabble over whose turn it is. He tends to forget that it is supposedly MY LAPTOP.
Come Fly with Me is one of those movies that must have been barely credible when it was made in 1963 - or so I assume, since 1963 is before my time - but in this day and age it is utterly bizarre. It tells the tale of three stewardesses, their well cut suits and freakish romances. There is diamond smuggling, German accents and slapping of hysterical women (a custom that surely must reappear soon as it seems so practical). Furthermore the story has plenty of innuendo and chastity concerns. Obviously the only one who gets in real trouble is the slutty blonde who spends the night in a hotel room with an Austrian. And the skanky ho smokes cigarettes in the airplane to boot! Remember those days when the smoking section of any airplane was total party central? Ah, the smell.
We're about to do some flying ourselves. Going off to the big ol' US of A. And right now I can think of about a gazillion other places I'd rather be in. The new apartment topping that list.
The election hype. The the election campaign. The commercials. The terror alert that surely will be elevated to purple magenta in order to instill maximum fear.
But there is family business to attend to and there is no changing it.
I just wish Icelandair had snazzy turquoise uniforms or at least a dashing pilot that will come out and slap me if/when I get hysterical.
Yessireebob, I am prone to aviophobia, I just thank the Good Whomever for small favors - she/he/it didn't bestow me with the gift of ablutophobia.
Actually, I watched this romp in technicolor extravaganza while The Husband was obsessing further about bushy bulges - right next to me on the couch thanks to our wireless Internet(s).
Wireless Internet rocks. Rocks the boat too, as only the laptop is hooked to it and we sometimes squabble over whose turn it is. He tends to forget that it is supposedly MY LAPTOP.
Come Fly with Me is one of those movies that must have been barely credible when it was made in 1963 - or so I assume, since 1963 is before my time - but in this day and age it is utterly bizarre. It tells the tale of three stewardesses, their well cut suits and freakish romances. There is diamond smuggling, German accents and slapping of hysterical women (a custom that surely must reappear soon as it seems so practical). Furthermore the story has plenty of innuendo and chastity concerns. Obviously the only one who gets in real trouble is the slutty blonde who spends the night in a hotel room with an Austrian. And the skanky ho smokes cigarettes in the airplane to boot! Remember those days when the smoking section of any airplane was total party central? Ah, the smell.
We're about to do some flying ourselves. Going off to the big ol' US of A. And right now I can think of about a gazillion other places I'd rather be in. The new apartment topping that list.
The election hype. The the election campaign. The commercials. The terror alert that surely will be elevated to purple magenta in order to instill maximum fear.
But there is family business to attend to and there is no changing it.
I just wish Icelandair had snazzy turquoise uniforms or at least a dashing pilot that will come out and slap me if/when I get hysterical.
Yessireebob, I am prone to aviophobia, I just thank the Good Whomever for small favors - she/he/it didn't bestow me with the gift of ablutophobia.
posted by disinterpreter at 1:22 AM
2 Comments:
So sorry to hear about your husband's anxiety. Mine seems to come in waves. I used to love to fly and then it kind of hit suddenly. I have learned to deal. and was on good way to recovery on 9/11, and then of course it got a lot worse. Now it seems to be better. I guess now, my fear is of fear itself, more than the actual flying.
Elin - keeping the tranquilizers in the carry on.
Interesting. This comment was in response to Cheryl's comment, which now seems to have vanished. Interesting.
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