Datebook: Thursday, August 17th

The first time my daughter went out of the country without me was in the summer between sixth and seventh grade. She had been recruited for People to People and had decided to take part in the 3-week Australia-New Zealand experience. I remember very clearly going to the movies the week-end prior to her departure and watching Tom Hanks in “Castaway”. I can’t imagine why this would have been my choice, I don’t typically take on known painful experiences and this was, I believe, the equivalent of suturing my own wound.

In case you don’t remember this movie, it placed Tom Hanks as a Fed-Ex executive who crashes in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. He lives alone for four years enduring dental problems, loneliness, and hunger on an uncharted island. Unlike Gilligan, these were not happy times where he always appeared clean, well-dressed, and in plentiful supply of hammocks from L.L. Bean.

It was the movie of nightmares.

I may have over-reacted to the movie.

Seriously, if you asked my daughter today she would tell you that she had a bathing suit and an inflatable inner-tube in her carry-on luggage.

I didn’t sleep for sixteen days. The only bright spot of that time is that I went to the summer sale at Nordstrom’s and bought a Kate Spade purse since I was saving money at the rink. (This pleasure was short lived when the wife of one of the coaches came to the rink sporting a similar purse. Although the Kate Spade moniker was only glued on hers and not stitched like mine, there was a 150.00 difference. Again, a suturing metaphor.)

So, now my daughter is set to leave again in a short time. Without me. And although I want to go with her, I can’t. I have a responsibility to teach the youth of today and set a good example about attendance.

Yes, there are only so many times a year you can have a sinus infection and bronchitis. A historic review of my personnel file would reveal reoccurring events every November and January for the past few years. Knowing how I feel about lying and karma, you will be comforted to learn that I always get sick from plane air anyway and come home to suffer at work since I have already used my sick and personal time. This usually helps the story, however, because the kids are all amazed at how sick I had to be the week before if this is how I come back to work. Usually we are on MacBeth and/or satires and they are thrilled to have me gone for several days so in reality, I am providing them with a much needed break from the three witches and Ireland eating their young.

This year, the movie selection is “Snakes on a Plane”.

I’m sure you have seen the trailers for this. A transatlantic flight with what seems to be the entire India/Africian population of snakes. No cute little garden snakes. Only deadly, bully-faced, large-teethed snakes were issued passports for this flight.

So, of course, one questions what kind of sick mind came up with this idea. Are there many out there that would not pass out just from seeing one snake slither across their feet or hang from the overhead compartment? I can see this being the ultimate terrorist plot. Just the thought of several thousand snakes on board could result in DBS or Death by Snake.

Make no mistake. I am not seeing this movie.

And I truly doubt that the majority of America will either. Oh, I know, there will be a few reptile aficionados who will be in the audience, who will probably feel saddened as a few cobras bite the dust. But for the most part, Americans will not want to see this any more than they will watch a liposuction procedure on the Discovery Channel.

Anyway, today I’m sure you can’t get a snake on board in carry-on. I mean, you can’t take Chap-Stick or toothpaste. Certainly you can’t take a snake in one of those little pet carriers that fit under your seat.

Can you?

Mombo #9