Confession: While Catbird would not go so far as to say she hates people, they do piss her off a lot of the time. Travel seems to bring this into sharp focus. Proximity to so many at once may be part of it; perhaps the way the airline industry crams 250 people into space more appropriate for 100; or the competition for limited number of electrical outlets, overhead bin capacity, and access and entrance to the little door that –once you wake and climb over your seat-mate and wrestle past the serving carts--seems to say occupado far more than it says vacant. Maybe it is the parade through first class amenities that the hoi polloi are denied, or just being captive to the bad movies, the painful and faltering earphones, or the terrible, terrible food. Or the cattle call through immigration and customs, or how about the people who gather on the people-mover as if it were an elevator ride, oblivious to the folks they block from hurrying along to their connection? Stand to the right, walk on the left, people! GTF out of the way!
The list of accumulated annoyances (and please believe Catbird, these are only a few) can make for a deep pile of resentment to offload. With sleep deprivation and jetlag added to the mix, let's just say Catbird has not improved international relations so far this trip.
While Catbird wrestles with sleep deprivation when she travels, her physicist has a talent for navigating jet-lag. Now everyone who knows her physicist knows he is a champion napper. There are photographs of him in front of more than one great international monument in the same pose: supine on the grass (or a bench, or the base of a statue, etc.) with his hat over his face, catching a quick power nap while tourists step delicately around him. He’s always been a good napper, says he comes from a long line of like-minded folks, including his grandfather the civil engineer. This grandfather would stretch out in the grass near the levee or bridge or road that was being built and take a 3 p.m. snooze while the other workers toiled on; and then earn their respect/envy/resentment as he woke with many more hours of energy to push the work forward.
Physicist grabs power nap while grad student toils, Brazil Hands-On School, 2009
Catbird thinks she knows how those workers felt. She has often envied her physicist’s ability to drop into sleep mid-sentence, leaving Catbird to contend with her sleep demons alone. She tries to be happy for his abilities, rather than resent them, but it isn’t always easy, especially when he wakes, rubs his hands together in anticipation of his next adventure, and repeats “well, that was a good nap,” seemingly oblivious to Catbird’s cross and weary face. It must be confessed, Catbird has threatened to slap him on such occasions.
Just as Mma Ramotswe is of traditional build, her physicist is of small stature. Given two airplane seats with a movable armrest, he can curl up and sleep comfortably, something Catbird most definitely can only dream about. The first leg of our three flights from Austin to Milano put Catbird and physicist alone in a three-seat exit row. While Catbird stretched her legs forward (in the additional three inches the exit row provides) and flicked on her Kindle, her physicist began his quick nesting process.
Curled beside her, Catbird helped her physicist pull his jacket over his head to block out the light just as the airline attendant made his last pass through the cabin, closing overheads and checking seat-belt status. The attendant gave a sharp look at the physicist and Catbird. Thinking to head off an intrusion into the physicist’s sleep descent Catbird said, “Oh, he’s belted. He’s belted.”
The airline attendant seemed mollified for a moment, then as he backed up the aisle asked: “But, how old is he?”
Taken back, Catbird could only blurt out the truth, “He’s 71. Why?”
“Oh,” said the airline attendant, blushing “I was afraid he was too young to be in the exit row.” At which point our physicist, roused by the public announcement of his age, pulled the jacket off his head and sat up revealing his lovely gray and neatly trimmed beard. Most of the cabin—not the least Catbird and her physicist—had a great laugh.
Following a nap of her own, and dinner, Catbird decides not to slap anyone.
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