L’Observateur : Re-Exile Edition

Leaving Austin, my plane was delayed by President Bush and Air Force One because he was visiting a storm center north of town to monitor Hurricane Gustav. I can only hope this was my last run-in with the village idiot.

Contintental Airlines, Austin to Cleveland, the stewardess came on the P.A. and reiterated her passion for her job and announced that she had finally achieved her long-held goal of appearing in photographic effigy on the boarding pass sleeve. I took a look and sure enough, there was an airbrushed her. She autographed a nearby passenger’s boarding pass sleeve, beamed with pride, and we took off. Bon chance, Lois.

Cleveland to Paris – a connection for the ages – and I was seated next to a yamikaze and his baseball-capped wife. He ragged out the steward for not providing a kosher meal, and then one-upped everyone by pulling two kosher roast beef sandwiches out of a padded cooler he brought on-board (just in case) and scarfed them down before anyone else had even imagined their food. Finally, my chicken cacciatori in ketchup splotch arrived, and I ordered some red wine to accompany the gourmet sensation. Then, nonsensically, I worried about whether my breath was kosher or not for about an hour afterward. He then watched three episodes of “The New Adventures of Old Christina” starring Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, passed out for six hours with his mouth wide open, and then woke up on our final descent and pulled two Maxim magazines out of his bag and ogled young girls. Lo Kol-Kach Tov.

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