The whole story revolves around the author’s inability to do ordinary things that other people do in public places like a cinema theatre or a plane. He has problems of orientation. He would try to reach a rest room but find himself behind a self-locking door. The author recounts how his anxiety ruined the happiness of people at the airport and how he himself suffered. For fear of such life-time incompatibility, the author refrained from making frequent trips and could never use his frequent flier miles for a trip to Bali island.
The author had a flash of memory that he had joined British Airways frequent flier programme. His entire family arrived at Logan Airport in Boston.
Unfortunately, he had placed the card in a carry-onbag hanging around his neck.
The zip on’ the bag was jammed. He tried pulling it hard. He used force instead of commonsense, the zip gave way spilling the contents over an area as large as tennis court.
To the great embarrassment of all fellow passengers waiting at the airport, 14 ounce tin pipe, coins and other important documents flew helter-skelter. He was annoyed to see the snuff box rolling and emptying its content. Instead of trying to collect coins, documerit and important papers, he went behind the tobacco box crazily shouting, “My tobacco”. When he sensed oozing of blood from his finger that he had gashed while opening the bag’s jammed zip he shifted his attention immediately to his finger. The author’s wife, wondering at his hysterics said, “I can’t believe you do this for a living”.
Once in an aeroplane, the author leaned to tie his shoe lace. Just then some one in the front seat leaned back into full recline. The author found himself pinned helplessly in a crash position.
Once the author spilled drinks on a fellow passenger too. He did it twice. He did not know how he did it.
The author was recording his important thoughts in a note book. They were as silly as he was “Buy socks, clutch drinks carefully”. He had fallen into a deep conversation with an attractive young lady in the next seat. Having lost his head, he amused her for about twenty minutes exchanging witty remarks to impress her. When he went to a rest room, he realized that the pen head leaked. His mouth, teeth and gums appeared in striking, scrub-resistent navy blue. To his disgust, it remained blue for many days.
The author wanted to be polished and sophisticated in his manners; But as serendipity would have it, he never left a dinner without making fellow diners realize that he had just experienced a local seismic event. Whenever he entered a car, he closed the door when his coat was still 14 inches outside the door. His trousers always brought evidence of his having sat on chewing gum, ice-cream, cough syrup or motor oil.
The author had clear prediction of the catastrophe he intended to venture into unconsciously. So, his wife would give directions to children like,
“Take the lid off the food for daddy” or put your hoods up children, Daddy’s going to cut his meat”. The author does all such cranky things only during his flight with his family.
While staying alone the author sat on his own down turned palms to prevent himself from doing some “liquid mischief ”. When alone, he never does things which would land him in some sure catastrophe.
The author admits his peculiar inability of earning flyer miles. He has a habitual forgetting of his “Frequent flyer mile card” while collecting his Boarding pass. Though he deserves to have earned 100,000 miles a year, and visited Bali on a free air ticket, he had earned only 212 air miles. While on a flight to Australia, the airline agency refused to grant air miles because the flyer mile card read as W. Bryson where as the name in the ticket read as B. Bryson.
He admits that he would never go to Bali because he has a peculiar habit of spilling the contents of food on board. People who have clumsy habits do overcome their awkwardness in public places with careful practice. As we live in a society, we should leam to conform to the norms of the society including table manners.
