SOCIAL ODDITIES II

First off, welcome back to Nemesis who saw fit to write on his half of the blog after a lengthy sabbatical of not blogging.

That being said, I have noticed some strange behavior in people over the past days. In light of Nemesis' entry about this blog, I happened to think of a few things not necessarily in the same arena, but mere observations of the same nature.

I have to bring attention to at least two certain types of "talkers" first. The one that I find most perplexing at the moment is what I like to call the "blink-talker". These persons are not to be confused with any sort of heroic activities of the Native American Indian code-talkers of WWII, but are in a league of their own. The blink-talker has a propensity for a seemingly uncontrollable use of their eyes while attempting to converse with someone. You will undoubtedly notice the blink-talker in action in their excited state vice their everyday activities. To blink normally is to wet your drying eyeballs, but the blink-talker seems to be tapping out some sort of Morse Code with their rapidly flitting eyelids. A blink for every syllable is not uncommon and may, in fact, be a technique of deception to draw your attention from the actual conversation. Whether or not this is the actual aim of the blink-talker is yet to be determined, but a viable theory nonetheless. As if strings from the pie hole were connected to the back of the eyelids, the blink-talker may have the most fit of all eyelids due to the exercise they receive daily. I am not sure, but there may be some sort of hyperactivity associated with REM sleep. Perhaps REM sleep combined with the already rapid movement of the eyelids will create a wormhole to a parallel dimension. Who knows...it's a mystery yet to be explored or solved.

The next "talker" would be what I like to call the "Trinity-talker" or "Matrix-talker". You may recognize these individuals by yet another rapid use of the eyelids, but at times of confusion or distress vice the daily use of the "blink-talker". Many have seen the Matrix movie and specifically the part in which Trinity needs to fly a chopper with a quickness. Not to be stopped at a minor inconvenience like not inherently knowing how to fly a chopper, Trinity contacts the mainframe and downloads instructions on how to fly a chopper. The eyes roll back in the nugget a bit and there is a rapid flitting of the eyelids. To speak to an individual like this (particularly while engaged in debate of which you clearly have the upper hand), is confusing to say the least. At my best guess and experience with this type of talker, and while in the midst of confusion and worry of losing the debate at hand, the Trinity-talker will download more information from the Matrix to aid in his/her ailing debate tactics. That is not exactly fair.

The next issue was very recent and on a airplane flight. I usually like to assign myself a seat that will provide me with ample foot space as well as ready access for both ingress and egress of said aircraft. This is usually manifested by the exit rows for me. At any rate, I took my seat at the window side and noticed my row-partner busily chatting away on the cell phone pre-flight. Taking hold of this rare opportunity I seized the armrest between us with my elbow and most of my forearm. This gives me the utmost comfort and unyielding access to the armrest for the duration of the flight. I think that I took the opportunity due to the fact that my row-partner was not only loudly speaking on the cell phone, but reeked of a scent not unlike kimchi. Once the cell phone conversation ceased, my row-partner decided he wanted a piece of armrest action. Well, that's fine if he could manage to fit his arm comfortably on the remaining 1/3 of the armrest due to my early seizure. Not this time pal, not on my watch. I had added extra security by wearing a rather heavy flannel shirt and a pair of headphones to block out unwanted frequencies (such as babies crying, frat boys speaking of their pledge days, women speaking about shopping, etc). When you first get the small nudge of your row-partner letting you know they would like to share your armrest, the senses are heightened. I closed my eyes early feigning sleep as to add to the defense. My expertly placed appendage was no match for the loud, kimchi-smelling person. As the flight went on, a baby did indeed begin to wail and a bit of the sound penetrated my headphones. Not to worry, I kept my wits about me and didn't let it get to my mind. I could "hear" my row-partner getting frustrated by breathing heavily and me having to smell practically liters of stale, disgusting kimchi laden halitosis-style air. At this point my row-partner began to press harder on the remaining third of the armrest hoping to take advantage of my "slumber", only to be repelled time and time again. After at least 2 hours of trying, my row-partner gave up and tried to fade to sleep with his arms crossed. Have a nice trip dummy.

This brings me to my final thought; the baby-case. While on a flight long, or short, nobody likes to hear a screaming baby. A few disgruntled chortles are laughed off, but full-on grumpy babies are a trip-wrecker. I usually keep my carry on luggage in the overhead storage bin as shift happens and I don't want to wrestle with my own luggage trying to free it from the seat in front of me. I never hear a peep from my luggage while it's up there; no whining, no crying, etc. Thus, the idea of the baby-case was born. There could be a slit in the baby-case for slipping a piece of melba toast to the baby during flight if the tyke is hungry, or if the baby is still nursing there would be the appropriately sized hole for conduct of such activities. Junior would have an even better flight if the parents placed a few of baby's favorite items in the baby-case such as their binky or a plush toy. Perhaps even the baby-case deluxe would be furnished with a sound system to employ the wonderful sounds of Mozart or Beethoven to the otherwise unhappy baby. Give it some thought...have your people call my people and we will knock out a patent.

Minus