Sunday, August 15, 2010

BloggeRhythms 8/15/2010

Aside from politicians scrambling all over the place to avoid the press and party affiliations, there's still not very much news. It also doesn't seem like any other flight attendants have attempted to jump airship, so the world's a pretty boring place at the moment.

I guess that means I need to fill in with another airborne story. I was on my way to New Orleans from LaGuardia early one evening, for a trade show, or maybe Tulane University Medical School, a financing customer of mine back then, I really don't remember exactly which.

Anyway, I was sitting in back in the smoking section and after a while in the air a lovely older woman sat down next to me in a vacant seat. I quickly glanced at her as she lit a cigarette, and then I said something like, "How are you, Mrs. Staub."

The woman looked at me suspiciously and replied with, "Do I know you, young man, you really don't look familiar." I immediately told that no, she indeed didn't know me, but I certainly knew who she was, because she'd been on television many times that very afternoon, and I remembered her from that. She was quite taken aback by my explanation, and seemed not only completely surprised by what I'd told her, but having difficulty accepting my answer.

What had transpired was, that afternoon was Rusty Staub day at Shea Stadium, commemorating his days as a Met's player and baseball analyst and his Mom who'd flown up for the occasion, was now returning home. However, even with her face on the huge Diamondvision screen in right center field frequently all afternoon, she'd been unaware of how many times they'd shown her image on TV.

Once she'd heard my explanation, she really was somewhere between embarrassed by the publicity, yet thrilled with her newfound celebrity status. So, after she finished a smoke or two, she asked me to accompany her to the front of the cabin where her seat was, whereupon we stopped at a bar cart in the middle of the aisle.

Next to the cart were two or three guys, one of whom was Ray Knight, former Met's third baseman. A woman in a seat beside the spot where Knight was standing was Nancy Lopez, his wife and perhaps the best woman professional golfer that ever lived. She'd accompanied Knight to New York and along with them was a nanny and the Knight's infant child.

Mrs. Staub smiled at me and told me that she'd thought it nice of me to tell her about her unknowing TV appearance, and suspected I'd be pleased to meet a couple of her friends. I assured her that she was absolutely correct, and then to prove my point, I spent the rest of the flight with her, the Knights and their friends around the bar cart making that one of my most pleasant evenings in the air.

And, as for the attendants on that flight as I recall, except for refilling the ice bucket when needed, they left us and the cart full of booze completely alone.

That's it for today folks.

Adios.

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