My Favs
I’ve been traveling lots lately and I want to share with you a few of my favorite things—la, laaaa. Just like the kids in the Sound of Music, only grown up.
Probably the best new development in the history of travel is the toilet seat covers that automatically reel out a new layer of clean fresh plastic for your pleasure with just a wave of your hand. Or sometimes, without even the wave. They’re fabulous, and not just for the obvious reason, which I’m assuming is some sort of elitist, bourgeois need to avoid contact with the hoi-polloi. Which is so ridiculous because the minute you leave that bathroom seat, you are surrounded by the germs of the masses, creeping up your legs and onto your shirt and into your belly button. Gees, have you ever sat (if you’re a girl, I mean) in a restroom and actually counted the number of people who wash their hands? Gag.
In fact, the whole bug thing is a total trip if you think about it: for example, you’re in an airplane seat, starving, because you weren’t allowed to bring anything to eat through security. This forced you to consider whether you’d stop at a Wolfgang Puck restaurant kiosk, which would willingly sell you a $9 Caesar salad in a plastic container. However, if you’ve barely managed to buy your ticket after searching on 15 web sites for the cheapest price, you’re not willing to buy what is essentially grass with a high water content, e.g. a salad, but instead you’ve bought the highest number of calories you could find for the cheapest price—either a candy bar or nuts. You’re probably not going to pop for the $2.50 quart of water but wait it out until the stewardess, or whatever she/he’s called now, brings you a miniscule plastic cup of ice with a sprinkle of liquid.
So you’re sitting there in your seat and you drop a big, prime, salted pecan, the one you’ve been saving to eat last, between your fat little thighs and onto the seat. Do you pick it up and stick it back in the bag, crumple up the bag, go to the restroom and throw it out so you won’t be tempted to eat it? Because you KNOW that baby is crawling with germs. Eight hundred people have sat in that seat this week alone. Don’t even think about the blankets or, heaven forbid, the pillows. Don’t think about wet diapers, people who never wash their clothes or hair, people with dogs who have lice or worms—or weevils in their cereal that have jumped onto their suit.
And while you’re at it, what about the handrails on the escalators? And the chairs?
Anyway, what I wanted to say about how fabulous the toilet seat covers were was that they make you feel so fancy. I guess this is because the first time I saw them was in the airport in Monterey, California. I’m always hoping to meet someone famous when I travel--apparently, Brittney Spears was on a coach flight last week in the midst of her breakdown. Her arrival was described as “surreal” by her fellow travelers. She sat in the back seat and tried to pull herself together, more or less successfully. That was apparently just before she shaved her head.
So, I go to Monterey every year with my kids because my son has a convention there, and I always expect to meet Clint Eastwood who actually probably remembers to take his private jet, unlike the Britster. But Monterey always makes me feel very fancy because the houses are so expensive. And now, I find the toilet seats are right in line with that feeling.
I’d also like to include, in my very short list of wonderful travel things that I love, other people’s clothes. I have a very basic travel outfit consisting of a black velour sweat suit that stretches, makes me look skinny, doesn’t show dirt, and can be warm or cool depending on whether I take off the jacket to show off my sequined t-shirt. However, in Chicago last week, I saw this huge black guy with a beautiful floor length overcoat that was sooo expensive. I also saw a lady with a floor length mink that I’m almost absolutely positive was REAL. Oh my heck, this NEVERS happens in Utah. If you dropped me into the Salt Lake airport and I didn’t know where I was—and was too dumb to remember what it looked like—I would still know I was here from people’s clothes: modest, washable, stretch knits. Actually, somewhat like my basic travel outfit.
It’s the little things like this make it so worthwhile to travel. I’m tossed between my admiration of floor length fur and the probability that it’s wearer has unwashed hands and is touching things I might touch later. But, as long as I’m in the restroom with the doors closed, it’s quite nice.
Probably the best new development in the history of travel is the toilet seat covers that automatically reel out a new layer of clean fresh plastic for your pleasure with just a wave of your hand. Or sometimes, without even the wave. They’re fabulous, and not just for the obvious reason, which I’m assuming is some sort of elitist, bourgeois need to avoid contact with the hoi-polloi. Which is so ridiculous because the minute you leave that bathroom seat, you are surrounded by the germs of the masses, creeping up your legs and onto your shirt and into your belly button. Gees, have you ever sat (if you’re a girl, I mean) in a restroom and actually counted the number of people who wash their hands? Gag.
In fact, the whole bug thing is a total trip if you think about it: for example, you’re in an airplane seat, starving, because you weren’t allowed to bring anything to eat through security. This forced you to consider whether you’d stop at a Wolfgang Puck restaurant kiosk, which would willingly sell you a $9 Caesar salad in a plastic container. However, if you’ve barely managed to buy your ticket after searching on 15 web sites for the cheapest price, you’re not willing to buy what is essentially grass with a high water content, e.g. a salad, but instead you’ve bought the highest number of calories you could find for the cheapest price—either a candy bar or nuts. You’re probably not going to pop for the $2.50 quart of water but wait it out until the stewardess, or whatever she/he’s called now, brings you a miniscule plastic cup of ice with a sprinkle of liquid.
So you’re sitting there in your seat and you drop a big, prime, salted pecan, the one you’ve been saving to eat last, between your fat little thighs and onto the seat. Do you pick it up and stick it back in the bag, crumple up the bag, go to the restroom and throw it out so you won’t be tempted to eat it? Because you KNOW that baby is crawling with germs. Eight hundred people have sat in that seat this week alone. Don’t even think about the blankets or, heaven forbid, the pillows. Don’t think about wet diapers, people who never wash their clothes or hair, people with dogs who have lice or worms—or weevils in their cereal that have jumped onto their suit.
And while you’re at it, what about the handrails on the escalators? And the chairs?
Anyway, what I wanted to say about how fabulous the toilet seat covers were was that they make you feel so fancy. I guess this is because the first time I saw them was in the airport in Monterey, California. I’m always hoping to meet someone famous when I travel--apparently, Brittney Spears was on a coach flight last week in the midst of her breakdown. Her arrival was described as “surreal” by her fellow travelers. She sat in the back seat and tried to pull herself together, more or less successfully. That was apparently just before she shaved her head.
So, I go to Monterey every year with my kids because my son has a convention there, and I always expect to meet Clint Eastwood who actually probably remembers to take his private jet, unlike the Britster. But Monterey always makes me feel very fancy because the houses are so expensive. And now, I find the toilet seats are right in line with that feeling.
I’d also like to include, in my very short list of wonderful travel things that I love, other people’s clothes. I have a very basic travel outfit consisting of a black velour sweat suit that stretches, makes me look skinny, doesn’t show dirt, and can be warm or cool depending on whether I take off the jacket to show off my sequined t-shirt. However, in Chicago last week, I saw this huge black guy with a beautiful floor length overcoat that was sooo expensive. I also saw a lady with a floor length mink that I’m almost absolutely positive was REAL. Oh my heck, this NEVERS happens in Utah. If you dropped me into the Salt Lake airport and I didn’t know where I was—and was too dumb to remember what it looked like—I would still know I was here from people’s clothes: modest, washable, stretch knits. Actually, somewhat like my basic travel outfit.
It’s the little things like this make it so worthwhile to travel. I’m tossed between my admiration of floor length fur and the probability that it’s wearer has unwashed hands and is touching things I might touch later. But, as long as I’m in the restroom with the doors closed, it’s quite nice.
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