Coke Sniffer

I had plenty of time at the check-in counter in Newark airport to peruse my neighbors. Before me, a grizzled man in leather, clutching the Mormon Bible. Before him, an Indian businessman whose love of his dog transcends national boundaries; I found out to my dismay how complicated checking a dog into a plane could be - the line didn't move for almost an hour. When it came to my turn, the Mormon winked at me, "Good luck," and took off. Luck deserted me. My Australian visa was not recognized and it was my turn to hold the line. When finally I got my boarding pass, the plane was about to fly. The check-in guy said the magic words into his walkie: "We have a runner. We have a runner." No time to check in my luggage, I tossed away my toothpaste (a frequent airport casualty), grabbed my bags and ran with the check-in man, down hallways of curious passengers, cutting lines with heaven-sent authority. When I stumbled into the plane, breathless, the Mormon winked at me, "You made it!" We took off immediately.

On the plane, an Australian girl, remarkably pretty, with blue painted nails, she asked me. "Do you drink?" I spoke honestly, "Yes, I do."
 
When I landed in Brisbane, they weren't too happy with me not reporting two oranges, an apple and a banana at customs. They tested me for cocaine with their metallic sniffers - I tested positive. Twice. No, I am not a user, my girlfriend (my girlfriend?) is not a user, none of my friends... I did not come into contact with anybody who might have... Sincerity won the day. That and the extensive luggage search. They sent the metallic sniffer for repairs and let me off with a few-hundred-dollar fine, for not reporting fruit.

The flight from Brisbane to Cairns bored me to sleep.

My saddlepoint

After the last French disaster, I've developed a pick-up line for French girls. I tried it out on Cecille, who recently joined my research group. Emboldened by the raucous atmosphere of Friday Beer, I approached her. For a while, she listened to my spiel on my research, and even tried to look interested. Finally, I asked, "Where do you get good bread around here?"

"I don't know," she replied, "When I was in Paris, I knew this bakery and it was very nice. I went there everyday. Here, I don't know..."

Jackpot! "Well, there is this Caffe Teresa along Nassau Street. They have decent bread."

She said, yes, thank you for the recommendation, maybe I'll go there sometime. 

I think she missed the point. "With me, I mean."

I witnessed a phase transition on her face. "Maybe some day." Her eyes swept a 180, and she promptly excused herself and fled. Such a flimsy excuse, I immediately forgot it. Maybe I should have tried the raisin line. Who taught it to me? Was it Esther or Laura? It must have been one of them crazy girls. Jake recently confided to me that the Big K regularly uses the raisin line when he's not around. How scandalous!

I enjoy springing these verbal traps. Smitten recently asked me how Kitkat was, to which I replied, "She keeps me warm at night."

"Oh... the two of you are friends with benefits?"

"No, she lent me her portable heater."

Tim saw through to the heart of my struggle. He likens it to a path integral in the space of girls. His idea of a pick-up line: would you be my saddlepoint? I award this first prize for romantic, for inventive, for genius. Tim always finds these beautiful analogies. More famously, he claims Jesus is the sum of all non-renormalizable theories.

Thanksgiving this year was Shakespearan, and the bread pudding with rum raisins was excellent. After dinner, Fake Russian and I were beer-debating over Kundera's original gestures. I proposed a toast to "Agreement!" but he declined. Fake appreciates argument for its own sake, and loves to take the opposing position; he reminds me of Youj that way.  I told Fake about Jane, whom I met during Thanksgiving. She was so beautiful my heart ached. She told me that she was attached, that dinner alone with me would be inappropriate. Can an abstract possibility be inappropriate? How can fleeting impressions, a few words over a crowded dinner table, feel so permanent? I need a break from myself. I replied: I hope that I did not imply anything inappropriate would happen over dinner. Foremost, I am interested in the possibility of friendship. However, I understand if you have constraints.