The LA Plane People and the Pods

Air travel has become so expensive, constricting, conflicting, rule ridden, paranoid, orthopedically torturous, fraught with pre- TSA Line Anxiety (will my bags be thrown around again, bunged casually out of sight , as they wand me, scan me, pan me, raise my taxes, reduce my benefits, repress my free speech, try to rob or ban me?). It’s like life. One definitely needs distractions. And flying is not nearly as daunting as watching the news these days. I very much needed to get away from all the election craziness.

So what better distraction while waiting to be squeezed into a seat for half a dozen hours than zooming in on your fellow passengers who are lolling around the seating area waiting to board? This activity also distracts somewhat from the ubiquitous, giant cadre of inescapable screens now menacing everywhere in the airport and blasting the entire space with the latest election happenings and “results” in those chirpy, slightly hysterical media voices.  I was not counting on this noise when I bought my ticket to the west coast and planned to leave it all behind, already having endured acute attacks of news nausea. I needed to clear my head and not think about politics.

Which brings me to the LA Plane People; any resemblance to the Pod People of the classic sci-fi thriller is purely intentional.

The LA Plane People for the most part are amazingly fit, and to put it quite simply, ready! They are not just waiting to take a plane, they are going places! They are a cross section of absolutely nowhere in the population and not your average voting shlameel - meticulously turned out, there’s not a boxy Hillary pants suit among them! Not a one was even slightly overweight, talked with a Brooklyn accent nor was there a Kasich cowlick, a skewed tie or an ill fitting jacket to be seen.

At 7:00 a.m before daylight savings it’s only minutes after sunrise. This means anyone already in that chilly, lonely, vast American Airlines lounge somehow has managed to slip out of bed in the darkness possibly 3 or 4 hours earlier, haul themselves to the airport, get wanded, patted, swatted, blotted and stay awake through it all. Yet the LA Plane People did not look unhappy; nor did they seem annoyed or disheveled. Not a one was sweating like Rubio or cursing like Christie. I on the other hand, despite having managed to wash my hair before dawn, already was feeling ticked off, dazed, hopelessly frumpy. I felt the election and the country would not go well and could not dispel these horrible thoughts. Some neighbors and friends already had lost their minds, were heaping strange praise and had succumbed to the body snatchers. And so I continued to try and clear my mind of anything political and simply observe those around me.

The LA Plane People are a hardy and merciless bunch, with a rather vague, distant air almost reminiscent of well dressed aliens from a fifties sci fi movie, yet they have no wish to inhabit your mind, and certainly not your body, unless, that is, your body happens to be even more perfectly constructed, sculpted and renovated than theirs- very unlikely, and something more along the lines of our possible new First Lady if the shifty real estate developer with political ambitions gets his way (no, I say to myself, this will not happen! The Pods will not rule!!!). I’ve seen chins, noses, eyes, calves, tummy & tushy tucks while waiting to fly to LAX that no one ever was meant to be born with. Some are like museum statuary that arose from a half shell at the gym.

All in all, not a terribly cuddly bunch, but in a strange and admirable way evocative of regular humans, though not quite. The LA Plane People are not like New Yorkers or mid-westerners, or even their neighbors up north, those laid back San Francisco dreamers- ebullient, young, mainly under thirty (the required age for self deportation from that city on the bay)- but more hard edged and somewhat older yet striving to appear forever young. The energy is boundless, scary. If I didn’t know better or read the LA Times I would swear they were all voting for You-Know-Who as they do not appear to take prisoners. Two hours into the miserable flight while I waited desperately for someone to offer a drop of water or maybe some seltzer to soothe the parched throat and dehydrated body systems, they were still tapping intently away on their laptops, possibly reading scripts or contracts, maybe just shopping happily online.

The LA Plane People have either made it big, often think about making it big, will never make it big or once knew someone who knew someone who made it big, but there is nothing small about them. Hair is big too, not literally, but you know, big. The leading GOP candidate has nothing on them. If I didn’t know better from the media, I would swear they are all republicans at heart, and maybe in reality. Even the LA based flight attendants have been touched by the stardust. Ours wears her own tresses in a style recently favored at the Oscars that must have taken her considerable care and time to effect, even though she is grossly underpaid- a severe center part augmented by a kind of weird flatness on the top of her head with a long pony tail at the back- an interesting combo of Jane Austen and prison matron with a smattering of Star Wars. The plane was aglitter with starlight!

The real high point came right before Boarding when I saw a passenger at the gate whose expensively cut bob was black on one side, platinum on the other, like one of Captain Kirk's alien "Lokai" people, or perhaps just a fantastical representation of a two faced politician. She steadily sipped her caf- through the lid- but in tiny, compulsive, staccato and focused little gulps in preparation for whatever event it was that she had to be ready. Maybe she just couldn’t decide who to vote for. Apparently anything is possible these days, even in a blue state.

And context is truly amazing. I now understand how people’s minds can be completely taken over. The intense LA aura created a tacit understanding between a gum cracking, street smart, slightly disheveled, out-of-shape and perennially weary reluctant flier from the east coast, and the tightly netted and fitted, caffeine-infused lady in perfect jeans and a crazy, two toned skull straight from a battle with the Starship Enterprise (who curiously gave the impression of being no nonsense rather than extremely silly). It was like getting caught up at a Trump rally, or “feeling the Bern” in a slightly drugged state. I was starting to see her hair style as normal. Does the setting influence point of view? Was there no escape from the bad political dreams that nightly haunted my sleep. . . .

For one mad moment I saw nothing culturally bizarre or weird about the general tenor or style of the black and white coiffure and began to accept it, to think it actually might catch on. Really. I admit, it was kind of early in the morning and I was fighting to stay awake, but the LA vibe was so convincing that this absurd hairdo seemed comfortable, even attractive. Given this way of thinking, what could be the effect of too much screen time on your ability to see the issues? Are viewpoints influenced by when, with whom, and where we are at any moment? Is a brightly colored orange comb-over embellished with a stream of adolescent taunts and threats of rioting really not that strange when associated with a president, and are we that malleable? Is everything theater, not just Hollywood? I comforted myself with the thought that while concentrating on the LA Plane People at least I had gained a brief reprieve from cable news. This surely means that I had not been entirely taken over and all I had to do was try to stay awake.  But what about the others. . . .

No metaphor here. Really. Just close your eyes and tap your heels. . . . There is nothing strange about our country these days. Really. The election soon will be over. Wait. . . did I really just say that??? I take it back! It must be jet lag. Whatever happens, do not close your eyes and please try your darmdest to stay awake.