NEW YORK — Whenever I see gleaming posters of people waving and smiling happily as they hop into a plane, I realize what a lying society we inhabit. Inside the belly of a metal container, 35,000 feet up in the air, is where all sorts of funny things happen in one’s guts.
Some see an airplane as a country club of the clouds, a place where you can invade and not have a care in the world. People get flight insurance in the lobby, kick and lug around suitcases twice their weight, pay a lot of money to sleep in airports, eat food we can’t identify and put our lives in the hands of people we’ve never met before. All those things, even if you do it right, they’re hard work. Vacations only sound great on paper. You go through security and have all your belongings x-rayed for guns, knives and even a cosmetic case; before you board the plane. The only deadly weapon I carry is small bottle of perfume with a Frenchman’s name on it. Once inside the plane, the attendants will give the evacuation procedure on how to use life jackets in the event we ditch over water. After that, we’re free to relax.
Many of us have a love/hate relationship with airlines. We love them when they are on time, we hate them the rest of the time. Yet we climb on and off of them by the millions in a cavalier fashion, out to prove we have not lost our adventurous spirit and willing to forgive them for just about anything. There are no two people on an airplane who have paid the same fare for a seat. There are relatives of airline employees who pay nothing, some are travelling on amassed mileage coupons, and some are super savers.
But one class distinction has remained: First Class.
These are all people who are either on expense accounts, the usual affluent. They are divided from the peasants by a limp blue curtain, making me wonder how long it would be before the little people like me in tourist, economy and super saver seats stormed the limp curtain to protest inequality. How long would they sit there and watch that little curtain being snapped together leaving them suspicious and classless, the stuff of which revolutions are made?
The idea of not blocking the aisle with things that do not fit under your seat is a joke. I can never make a smooth exit when the person in front of me reclines his seat, embedding my snack table tray on my stomach. I certainly do not wish to imply that airlines are not sensitive to your problems. They reassure you that cushions will float if they have to, the cabins are pressurize if something malfunctioned, there are little bags of oxygen that would drop automatically in front of our faces if you got sick, and there are little paper barf bags on the seat pocket with instructions on how to throw up in two languages.
I did a lot of thinking about my girls on this trip, especially the wisdom of traveling with them. My conclusion is that you can leave your children, endowments, stocks, the family silverware, heirlooms; but you can not pass on to them the memories that have contributed immeasurably to your life — your travels. It is a one owner legacy to me that goes with you when you go.
Parents think a lot about legacy to their kids. I wish I could just show them the world, let them amass their own riches. If I were to give them legacy at all, I hope it’s a desire to see the world and meet some of the people with whom they share their planets in peace.
We have hours on this trip to think and observe one another away from telephones, schedules, friends and conversation that sounded like bulletins. I realized for the first time, we were a family who gave one another space to ourselves. The umbilical cord that had bound us together as a unit for four decades will be severed. They have been dealing with hostility as teenagers, as we countered with one last rush of superiority. We have a lot of thinking and growing up to do…a lot of things to prove to ourselves.
Post Scripts to A New York Weekend
It is autumn in New York, and Opera season had began.
The Metropolitan Opera is still Americas most famous and prestigious institution. “everytime the curtain goes up, it’s a miracle:” known for its splendid nights and hilariously bad ones, intrigues, conflicts, rivalries and a profession of profusion of violenttemperaments…trials and tribulation of hundred of stars who have created one Golden Age: after another Callas Tebaldi, when Americas true royalty that of finance were led by the Astors, Morgans and Vanderbilts: as we entered the metro, we imagine women with tiaras, large bossoms and lace fans are throwing back their heads.
I explored 5th Avenue, its fashion power houses never fail to produce a kind of magic, every sparkling corner, has a story and incredibly a cast people to help narrate, a parade of painfully chic looks folks marching down as the sun sit on New York City, new restaurants with heavy hitter chefs, taking us into the thoughts process behind: the holy spirits on bar carts with divinely inspired prime liquor places to go for New Yorks finest fashion, jewelry and almost everything are boundless.
Here, commerce increasingly becomes cutthroat, and profitability is championed at any cost….theres the question…is there room in the economic equation for kindness, conscience and human values.
It was a joyous opportunity to speak with New York University President Andrew Hamilton at the NYU Family Day who spoke of how values affect our lives on an increasing global culture…how with a sense of hope inspired by the wisdom and energy of those who see others and better possible futures for this world, in an articulation, that is so significant.
At the” Live with Kelly” at ABC, we were able to ask Tom Hanks “Is there any movie you wish you never made?” and the ensuing ambush conversation, had me almost thrown out of the show – he was very obliging…With Michael Buble, conversation was less stressful although limited (there was not a single media in the audience)
“There seem to be a renewed interest in social, political and humanitarian concern among a lot of artists…have you thought very much about the issues? What can you do about that?”
You do whatever you can do, everybody thinks about it. I have my personal opinions, now if that will influence people or not: but what can I do is talk about it, through my own experience.
Then it was time for him to sing, and all the women dropped dead!
