Hey
A Pointless Story About a Vietnam Vet, Twisted Horse Guts, and Travel
Scene: A plane
Characters: Me and a chatty neighbor (you know how they are)
He looked like an 'Anchor Out'. They're people who live in battered-looking shacks built on floating rafts and anchored in the waters off the Sausalito shore. The Sausalitans don't like the anchor outs. Sausalitans are an affluent bunch with nice cars, million dollar homes, and housekeepers named Rosalita. 'Anchor Outs' are like the sea itself: salty and crusty and possessing the faint smell of fish. In appearance, 'Anchor Outs' are the human equivalent of wet cigarette butts in an ashtray. When I worked in Sausalito, I'd see the 'Anchor Outs' in town; they would come occasionally to replenish supplies, arriving by small motor or row boat. Seeing them in their long coats and rubber boots, unkempt clothing and unwashed hair always provided me with a pleasant distraction from the everyday Sausalito: tidy, flawless, dear, stale...
So Anyway. This guy was really nervous about flying and before all of the passengers were even on the plane, he'd removed his glasses from his shirt pocket, placed them on his nose, his head, and then back to the pocket a dozen times. He inspected his seat belt and shifted one knee onto the other with every breath. I had my nose buried in a book. I wasn't reading, but I didn't want to nurse him through the take off. He popped about 10 pieces of gum in his mouth and while masticating on a huge gob of Juicy Fruit, he finally leaned over and asked me if I was also afraid of dying this day. When the plane's engines finally whirred to life, I got the feeling he wanted to hold my hand. But he didn't. Probably becuase I'd just picked my nose for the sake of preventing it. Acutally, that's not true -- I'm just joking. I don't pick my nose in public.
Fearful people have a way of running their mouths to take their minds off the thing they're afraid of. This guy was no exception. He talked my ear off most of the flight, stopping only for brief intervals to focus on looking terrified and control his breathing with any hint of turbulence. In this way, I learned all about his prized posession, a horse, and the rigors of dealing with colic. I don't know much in the way of horses; I've only ridden a horse on several occasions in my life, so naturally I had no idea what colic was. I'd only ever heard the term used in regards to human babies. "He's colicky," an apologetic mother might say to anyone nearby who is concerned or irritated by her infant's screams.
My chatty neighbor explained that colic is when a horses's guts get twisted up. It can die if the problem is not remedied and from what I remember, it's a touch and go situation and very stressful. This conversation seemed to take his mind off his fears for a while, but really it only served to shift his fear from one place to another. Apparently, he'd just left his colicky horse in the hands of a veterinarian and was concerned about the health of his animal.
Our conversation drifted to the more immediate. "Where are you going?" he wanted to know. I explained that I was headed to Ohio to visit my parents. He, on the other hand, was headed to Moscow to visit his girlfriend. I consequently learned all about the trials and tribulations of dating and marrying a Russian woman in excrutiating detail... but at least we were no longer talking about equine intestines. Anyhow... after this flight, he had several more long hauls and I was ever so thankful that I was not to be his neighbor on one of those prolonged flights.
He then asked where else I've been, in terms of travel. World travel. What's the longest flight I've ever taken? I talked about my trip to SE Asia several years prior. I noticed he'd stopped fidgeting -- his ongoing fear temporarily abandoned in favor of revulsion. He was a Vietnam vet. Of course, I should have known -- his appearnace was quintessential 'Vietnam Vet' -- all that was missing was a fraying camouflage jacket and the jingle of dog tags.
"Why in hell did you want to go there for?" he asked in his eloquent way. My answer: 'Why do people go anywhere? To see it. To be there. That's all."
He looked at me in silence for a few minutes and then said archly, "Girl, you're about as twisted as my horse's guts."
Characters: Me and a chatty neighbor (you know how they are)
He looked like an 'Anchor Out'. They're people who live in battered-looking shacks built on floating rafts and anchored in the waters off the Sausalito shore. The Sausalitans don't like the anchor outs. Sausalitans are an affluent bunch with nice cars, million dollar homes, and housekeepers named Rosalita. 'Anchor Outs' are like the sea itself: salty and crusty and possessing the faint smell of fish. In appearance, 'Anchor Outs' are the human equivalent of wet cigarette butts in an ashtray. When I worked in Sausalito, I'd see the 'Anchor Outs' in town; they would come occasionally to replenish supplies, arriving by small motor or row boat. Seeing them in their long coats and rubber boots, unkempt clothing and unwashed hair always provided me with a pleasant distraction from the everyday Sausalito: tidy, flawless, dear, stale...
So Anyway. This guy was really nervous about flying and before all of the passengers were even on the plane, he'd removed his glasses from his shirt pocket, placed them on his nose, his head, and then back to the pocket a dozen times. He inspected his seat belt and shifted one knee onto the other with every breath. I had my nose buried in a book. I wasn't reading, but I didn't want to nurse him through the take off. He popped about 10 pieces of gum in his mouth and while masticating on a huge gob of Juicy Fruit, he finally leaned over and asked me if I was also afraid of dying this day. When the plane's engines finally whirred to life, I got the feeling he wanted to hold my hand. But he didn't. Probably becuase I'd just picked my nose for the sake of preventing it. Acutally, that's not true -- I'm just joking. I don't pick my nose in public.
Fearful people have a way of running their mouths to take their minds off the thing they're afraid of. This guy was no exception. He talked my ear off most of the flight, stopping only for brief intervals to focus on looking terrified and control his breathing with any hint of turbulence. In this way, I learned all about his prized posession, a horse, and the rigors of dealing with colic. I don't know much in the way of horses; I've only ridden a horse on several occasions in my life, so naturally I had no idea what colic was. I'd only ever heard the term used in regards to human babies. "He's colicky," an apologetic mother might say to anyone nearby who is concerned or irritated by her infant's screams.
My chatty neighbor explained that colic is when a horses's guts get twisted up. It can die if the problem is not remedied and from what I remember, it's a touch and go situation and very stressful. This conversation seemed to take his mind off his fears for a while, but really it only served to shift his fear from one place to another. Apparently, he'd just left his colicky horse in the hands of a veterinarian and was concerned about the health of his animal.
Our conversation drifted to the more immediate. "Where are you going?" he wanted to know. I explained that I was headed to Ohio to visit my parents. He, on the other hand, was headed to Moscow to visit his girlfriend. I consequently learned all about the trials and tribulations of dating and marrying a Russian woman in excrutiating detail... but at least we were no longer talking about equine intestines. Anyhow... after this flight, he had several more long hauls and I was ever so thankful that I was not to be his neighbor on one of those prolonged flights.
He then asked where else I've been, in terms of travel. World travel. What's the longest flight I've ever taken? I talked about my trip to SE Asia several years prior. I noticed he'd stopped fidgeting -- his ongoing fear temporarily abandoned in favor of revulsion. He was a Vietnam vet. Of course, I should have known -- his appearnace was quintessential 'Vietnam Vet' -- all that was missing was a fraying camouflage jacket and the jingle of dog tags.
"Why in hell did you want to go there for?" he asked in his eloquent way. My answer: 'Why do people go anywhere? To see it. To be there. That's all."
He looked at me in silence for a few minutes and then said archly, "Girl, you're about as twisted as my horse's guts."
posted by Cheryn at 11:19 AM
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