Lies We All Live With


Lies perform a valuable function in our society.  They keep us civilized because, without lies, fat people would be fat, stupid people would be stupid and 99% of the rest of us would be obnoxious assholes.  Everybody knows that lying works on a sliding scale from “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” to “No, I didn’t shoot Mr. Brown” and we’re content to live somewhere in the middle of that moral dichotomy.  Unfortunately, these days, lying is more about Mr. Brown than Mr. Claus, and it’s becoming institutionalized.  This isn’t healthy.  I’m not talking about politicians or journalists who have been lying to us ever since Cheops the Unwashed told the Cairo Gazette he wanted a small funeral.  I’m talking about those everyday lies we all recognize and just have to live with.  Here’s a small sampling.

Clothing size – The relationship between the number stamped on the label and the actual size of any article of clothing is purely coincidental.  For example, my closet runs from mostly medium through large, extra large and even a few XXLs – and I’m a man.  Go to a woman’s closet and you’re going to find a roulette wheel full of size numbers that would make a croupier cringe.  Actually, I think that’s how clothing manufacturers determine sizes: they just spin a big wheel and whatever it lands on – “We have a winner!” — that’s the size.

Airline prices – I don’t care what the advertisement says, nobody has ever gone to San Pedro, Switzerland, Swaziland or anywhere else for $99.  Nobody!  The 99 you see bold as gold in the ad is just the launch code.  The airlines use that to launch you and credit card into debtor’s prison.

Calorie count – These aren’t actually lies; they’re just blatant misinformation.  When the package says “100 calories per serving,” this is technically true. However, what they don’t tell you is the serving size they’re talking about is a WTF joke!  Who eats half a doughnut, for God’s sake?  I pig down two before my coffee’s even cool enough to drink!

Microwave instructions – Reading the instructions on a box of microwavable anything is like reading an email from a Nigerian prince: you know it’s a scam, but you just can’t help yourself.  Everybody knows there are actually only two settings on a microwave – overcooked and underdone — but we all try anyway.

And finally:

You can’t miss it – Yes, you can!

Air Travel: The Elegant Days are Gone

I’m definitely dating myself, but I remember when air travel was elegant.  Not the kind of Spy the Friendly Skies eyewash that ABC tried to promote with Pan Am but really a rather pleasant experience.  People used to dress up for it and mind their manners.  There was a style to it.  It was an integral part of travel, not just a delivery system.  Unfortunately, those days are gone and, like the rotary phone, they ain’t coming back.

I understand that the airline industry has grown up a lot since high-heeled stewardesses clicked up and down the aisles, handing out peppermints before take-off.  Back in those days (at least in my neighbourhood) if you were travelling by plane, you’d either been saving your money since birth or somebody had just died.  Air travel was expensive back in the day, and exceptional service was expected.  Now, since the asking price of a ticket to London is cheaper than dinner and dancing anywhere but Burger King™, service has naturally deteriorated.  Sheer numbers have overwhelmed most airlines’ ability to cope.  Processing even one 747 full of sweaty tourists and their over-packed luggage has got to be a nightmare, and the airline industry is doing it thousands of times a day – all over the world.  Obviously, the lines are going to be long, and the guy checking your bags won’t have time for a lot of idle chatter.  After all, he’s looking at two or three hundred other people who need extra leg room and a window, too.

Then, of course, contemporary times have given us the extra added attraction that anybody with a boarding pass is now a target for every homicidal malcontent with a chemistry set.  I’m not going to go into the whole WTF revelation that airline security is still looking for bombs and not bombers, but I’m not the only one who thinks that this misdirection is part of the problem.  Honestly, measuring everybody’s lip balm and eye shadow as if they were Abu Nadel’s murderous grandchild certainly ramps up the grumpy and cuts down on the courtesy.  But let me be the first to say that the security people in every airport I’ve ever been in have done a tremendous job against incredible odds.  Think about it: they have to be right every time; the terrorist only has to get lucky once.

I don’t mind any of this really.  It’s all part of the art of travel.  One learns to hurry up and wait, amuse oneself with eavesdropped conversation and partial undress while holding a passport in one hand and a clear plastic bag with a toothbrush in the other.  (It’s kinda like county jail with postcards.)  Nor do I mind playing hide and seek with my departure gate, fending off imminent dehydration with overpriced bottled water or getting the disinterested plastic glove treatment.  (I guess those guys really can’t smile.)

The thing I object to is the harshness and the impending chaos.  Every time I walk into an airport, I get this vision that it’s sheep shearing time in the Australian Outback and, someplace out of sight, Bluey and the boys are sharpening the shears.  People are flocking themselves back and forth in lamb-eyed confusion as if their best option might be the line marked souvlaki.  Nobody, except maybe the folks who built the airport, actually knows where they’re going.  They all just stumble around until they accidently find their baggage or the connecting flight.  And ID tags don’t mean a damn thing either; every one of them has a different story.  Once, at CDG in Paris, I got all the way out to the street without a passport stamp or my luggage on the advice of uniformed personnel behind a desk.  Try explaining that to a couple of tres curious security guards – in fractured Franglais.

Yes, I know, millions of people make it through thousands of airports every year with only tired and sweaty to bitch about, but really it could be so much better.  I’m not suggesting we return to the days of yesteryear when pilots were all greying at the temples and stewardesses were harnessed into their underwear.  However, getting from here to there should be more than running a guilty-until-proven innocent gauntlet, followed by a six to eight hour nose to knees dinner and a movie.  As Lewis CK says, sitting in a chair in the sky is a fantastic experience.  It could and should be tons more enjoyable.