Thursday, May 31, 2012

Dairy AIR Apparent

Given my CRUSTY appearance and demeanor you probably think I like pizza, don’t wash behind my ears, and rarely leave the confines of my cardboard carton unless absolutely necessary. Well you would be correct in at least two of those assumptions, though in my defense if the city would throw in a few more of those park porta-potty deodorant cakes I might scrub the ‘stank’ off a little longer. Surprisingly though, I am street-wise even without a GPS or a paper cup full of change, and actually do travel quite frequently in a breathless effort to ‘wind’ friends and give ‘influenza’ to people.

Beyond the breadth of my Big Wheel, I prefer to travel by plane despite the hassles these days with security, baggage limits, and the long waits. There is just something ironically special about getting peanuts for my big mouth even though I am paying ‘through the nose’ for those tiny tickets. Now it seems I can’t even get my doctor to pony up with a ‘smiley’ sticker after I cough, so getting informally fed and watered as a bonus in a smelly flying cattle car has become truly a thrill.

The main problem for me and recent air travel is that I now have to be very aware of my public image. No I am not famous at all, but regardless of who you are, nobody wants to see your bald pink piggies pointing at them from the holes in your gray soiled socks. I think it goes without saying that the same rule is doubly important when applied due South of your shirt-line, should the belt-removal regimen go awkwardly awry.

The airlines could assist with these types of problems if they would once again just hand out those pin-on wings to hide the holes in my clothes like they did in the old days. Or at the very least return to offering those little soaps in the plane privies to help me scrub my stained skivvies BEFORE I get on the plane. Oh well even if it sometimes stinks, I guess I’m a lucky dog since air travel is not as formal as it once was. Yes, apparently EVEN a crusty old cur like me can finally make it out of the ‘Live Animal’ cargo hold and find happiness numbly, under somebody’s piquant seat.