Read My Point...And I Do Have One for Free Online

that. Could you wrap that up for me please? That was delicious. It’s just too much. I’m stuffed! What was that, pigeon?”
    But we do get excited about it, don’t we? “Oh, here comes the cart, put down the tray! La la la la. Put down your tray! They’re starting on the other side first. Hurry! Hurry! Those people over there—they’re eating. Those people are eating.”
    This is the tiniest food I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I guess they figure everything’s relative. You get that high up, you look out the window, “Well, it’s as big as that house down there. I can’t eat all that. Look at the size of that. It’s as big as a house. Me thinking I could eat all that! Ha! Split that steak with me. Now
that’s
a steak.” Any kind of meat that you get—chicken, steak, anything—has grill marks on each side, like somehow we’ll actually believe there’s an open-flame grill in the front of the plane.
    Salads are always two pieces of dead lettuce and salad dressing that comes in that astronaut package. As soon as you open it, it’s on your neighbor’s lap. “Could I just dip my lettuce, ma’am? Hm, that’s a lovely skirt. What is that, silk?” But you know, should that happen, club soda’s gonna get that stain out immediately.
    That’s the answer to anything you ask up there, I don’t know if you’ve noticed that.
    “Excuse me, I have an upset stomach.”
“Club soda, be right back.”
“Excuse me, I spilled something.”
“Club soda, be right back.”
“Ooh, the wing is on fire!”
“Club soda, be right back.”
    I thought the food would make me feel less frightened. But it didn’t. Maybe if I stretch my legs and go to the restroom it will help.
    That was the tiniest bathroom I’ve ever been in. I guess they figure since the food is so tiny, the bathrooms should be minuscule, too. I read a book once where twopeople had sex in an airplane bathroom. I don’t see how that’s possible. I barely had enough room to sit down. There is a lit sign in there that reads: “Return to Seat.” “Return to Cabin.” Why do they think that needs to be lit? Because we’ll relax in there for a little while? “Miss, bring my peanuts in here, please. This is
beautiful
. The water is so blue, it reminds me of the Mediterranean. I don’t ever want to leave.”
    You have no concept of time when you’re in there—it’s like a casino: no windows, no clocks. I could be the only one to get up out of my seat to go to the bathroom—everybody else is sound asleep when I go—but after I’ve been in there for what I think is thirty seconds, I open the door and everyone in the plane is lined up, looking at their watches, making me feel like I’ve been in there forever.
    And now I’ve got to explain the smell that was in there before I went in there. Does that ever happen to you? It’s not your fault. You’ve held your breath, you just wanna get out, and now you open the door and you have to explain, “Oh! Listen, there’s an odor in there and I didn’t do it. It’s bad. You might want to sprinkle some club soda, if you uh …”
    I think my only hope of escaping my mind-numbing fear is to sleep; to sleep and perchance to dream. The only trouble is when I fall asleep on a plane, I always have a nightmare.…
    I’m in a department store walking through the area with the makeup counters—then all of a sudden I’m a penguin on ice skates—Florence Henderson is cooking macaroni and cheese in my kitchen and my brother has gained 200 pounds and is being fed by three Haitian women wearing disco clothes and in the background the Bee Gees are arguing over what outfits to wear for their big comeback
.
    Then I turn into myself again and Bruce Willis calls me up and asks me to go out with him and drink some wine coolers. So, we’re
sitting in an outdoor cafe in Italy called Louis’. He’s telling me his life was meaningless until I came into it. I tell him I’m not ready to make a commitment. Just then I