Sketches from the plane

What’s the purpose of wearing a hat? In cold weather, it’s commonly believed that most body heat is lost through the top of your head; while this isn’t true, it’s pervasive enough to make people wear hats. In hot weather, it can shade your eyes and face from the heat of the sun. Both good reasons, if slightly misguided. But on a plane? It could be that you’re hiding a huge boil, that’s ready to burst; or a bald patch in the shape of the Queen Mary; or a third ear. My imagination can make the reasons so much more spectacular than reality. So … take the hat off, asshole. Especially if you’re wearing headphones.

 “Chicken or beef?”
It’s a simple enough question – don’t over-complicate it. Chicken is the “lite” option; beef is the heavy, over-salted one. Just pick one, and don’t bother asking, “What vegetables does it come with?”, or, “Is it free range?”. It’s airline food – it’s supposed to fill time, not your appetite.

When they come round with the drinks trolley, get one. Better still, get two – you never know when they’ll come round again. Air travel used to be a pleasure; these days, you need an anaesthetic.

 Relax. Get on the plane as soon as you can, and watch the cabaret – the other passengers trying to fit oversized “carry-ons” into the overhead compartments. It’s the most entertainment you’re going to get. You’ve either seen the movies already, or there’s a good reason why you haven’t.

Take your shoes off – it’s amazing how much more relaxed it makes you feel. But if you need to go to the restroom, put them back on first. Just trust me on this one.

 Flight attendants are not your personal assistants. They may seem as if they are, but that’s just the way they’re trained. The best routes, like the transatlantic ones, are allocated by seniority (otherwise known as “age”). That’s why, when they talk about “wide-bodied”, they aren’t necessarily talking about the planes.

Denison

The movie “The Social Network” was released on Friday. There was quite a lot of advance “buzz” about it, and it’s being shown in just about every movie theater in town. My favourite local theater is the Angelika, in Dallas – I refer to it as an “arts theater”, because it tends to show non-mainstream movies, except when a mainstream movie warrants exposure. This one does. There are enough reviews about it already, so there’s no point in adding mine, but I will say that 8.6/10 on IMDb.com is no mean feat, and I thought it was well worth the price of the ticket, and, more importantly, well worth 120 minutes of my time.

The Katy

Because I anticipated crowds, I went to an 11am performance. Before the movie started, an advert extolled the virtues of “Downtown Denison’s Arts & Cultural District”. Since I had an afternoon to fill, it seemed like a good idea to check it out. Denison is about 75 miles north of Dallas. It was founded in 1872, as a depot for “the Katy” railroad – that’s the Missouri-Kansas-Texas, or “the K-T”. It’s the birthplace of a few notable people – Dwight Eisenhower (the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces during WWII), John Hillerman (of Magnum P.I. fame), and, most recently, “Sully” Sullenberger, who “landed” US Airways flight 1549 in the Hudson River last year. Denison has suffered the fate of so many railroad towns, and the “historic downtown” area is depressed, and depressing.

A mural in Denison

It may seem that there’s no relationship between the movie and Denison, but there is. It’s history repeating itself. The railroads made people and cities rich, because they fulfilled a need at the time, as do internet social networks (or internet anything, for that matter) now. But we humans are fickle, slaves to fashion and “progress”. Just as Denison has been unable to reinvent itself as the railroads decline, or become more automated, so Facebook will ultimately be surpassed by the next generation of “killer apps”. The principals, of course, will get out long before they lose money – it’s the derivative industries, the supporting infrastructure, and the people that depend on it, that will be left holding the bag. It’s evolution, I suppose – the survival of the fittest. But sometimes I wonder just how fit we need to be …

A mural on Main Street

H

Granbury

The weather in October in Central Texas is beautiful. Summer’s furnace has finally burnt itself out, and it’s pleasantly warm throughout the day. The hotel is crowded because of the “Red  River Shootout” – the annual football game at the Cotton Bowl between two great rivals, the Sooners from Oklahoma University, and the Longhorns, from the University of Texas. So it was a good day to get out of Dallas.

The square in Granbury - the Nutt brothers were founders of the city

National Public Radio (NPR) is somewhat like BBC Radio 4. Intellectual content, lots of topical news, no commercials. But three times a year they have a “pledge drive” to raise money to keep the station running. Each pledge drive occupies probably a third of the air time for several weeks – we don’t know how lucky we are with the BBC. I think commercials would almost be preferable – at least they’re created by professionals, so you don’t have to listen to interminable repetitions of the number to call, and the amazing gifts they’ll give you in return for donations. I really need another coffee mug ... There’s a pledge drive going on right now for KERA, the local radio station, so I drove in blessed silence, with the windows down, hearing the sounds, smelling the smells, of the rural areas I passed through.

This is what you get for shouting at the sheriff

I thought I’d already been everywhere worth going to within easy reach, but today I went to Granbury, which I’ve passed by many times. I followed the signs to the “historic downtown district”, which is usually a town square left dilapidated and derelict after the arrival of Walmart and their cohorts. Not this time. Granbury is revitalized and vibrant. I had lunch in the patio area of one of the restaurants on the square – green leaf salad, with tomato, avocado, pine nuts, black olives and spring onions, sprinkled with parmesan cheese – with the warm sunlight filtering through the live oak trees. I’m always impressed that, even if you order a beer (as I did – a Shiner Bock), they still bring you a tall glass of iced water.

Apart from the Opera House, the gift shops, the coffee houses and cafes, the antique stores and the General Store, they have a museum. This was at one time lived in by the Sherriff, with the jailhouse upstairs. It was there that I learned that Jesse James was buried in the local cemetery – his “death” in 1882 was supposedly staged so that he could live out the rest of his life incognito. There are many such stories surrounding the colourful characters of the Old West – Billy the Kid is also reputedly buried locally, again after a mis-reported death. It wouldn’t be at all surprising if some of them were true, although, according to this legend, Jesse James would have been 103 when he died.

Fried pie

Jesse James' grave

On the way back through Weatherford, I stopped at Baker’s Ribs to get a “fried pie” – an Oklahoma delicacy. Yes, it’s exactly what it looks like – deep-fried, fruit-filled pastry.

It’s a wonder I’m still alive, the stuff I eat …