Plane and simple

Hello, friends and friends of friends, and welcome back to this Friday's installment of UOPTA. As is often the case, I've got some random crap to dispense, so sit back (but not so far back that you can't see the monitor) and relax.

Exactly how far will I go for a joke? Well, I just found myself actually having this thought: "Ooh, I hope it cools down sometime in the next two weeks. Then I can wear some kind of vest and hopefully get a comment on it. Then I'll reply, 'Yes, it's my Octobervest' and everyone will laugh." I think I speak for all of us when I ask, "What the hell is wrong with you, Peter?" The good news is that I haven't actually done that (yet), so it remains a hypothetical. That said, reaching for jokes is well within my wheelhouse.

In fact, I have a perfect example from just a week or two ago. My friend Jon and his girlfriend Erin were in town, and a group of us was hanging out at our friends Lisa and Paul's house. Jon and Erin had just gone to a wedding in Santa Barbara, and since my lovely wife and I lived in that kick-ass town for nine years, we asked where it was held. They told us that the reception was at a nice restaurant called Stella Mare's, and the joke I wanted to tell popped into my head. But how to get there...ah, that was the problem. So, I casually mentioned the fact that I'd heard that Kenny Loggins' wife or ex-wife owned that restaurant. I waited a little while and let the conversation go on without me. Then the topic of where the restaurant is located in SB came up, and I pounced: "Yeah, I think it's the first exit off the Highway to the Danger Zone." Crickets. Damn. "Uh, ya know, because Kenny Loggins sang that song in Top Gun?" "That was him?" Crap. "Would it have been any better if I said I'd join you there if you'd...Meet Me Halfway?" I asked. "No, now you're really reaching." "Well shit, I can't exactly work Footloose in there, now can I?" Yes folks, that's the sound of a joke crashing against wall, catching fire, and eventually being stomped out while ruining your favorite pair of shoes. Peter Klein, ladies and gentlemen!

Speaking of jokes, you know who is an undervalued source of occasional laugh-inducing lines? The flight attendants on Southwest Airlines. They know full well that everyone but first-time fliers can pretty much recite their opening spiel verbatim. Therefore, I appreciate their frequent attempts to change it up. It started with them slipping in a funny: "If you are seated next to a small child or someone acting like one, secure your mask first before assisting others." I like that. It was a little weird when one of the flight attendants was making the sounds of an engine going through several gears during takeoff once, but I still smiled at it. They're trying, folks, and I like that.

I was on a Southwest flight earlier this week, and there were three new things that happened vis-a-vis the flight attendants. First, to start the required speech about regulations and safety features of the aircraft, the lead attendant said, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you could please pretend to pay attention to the flight attendant in the aisle for a couple of minutes, we will begin our safety demonstration." Again, I liked it. It shows that they know their audience, and that's a key to comedy.

In the same opening act of the show, she said, "We do not anticipate the loss of cabin pressure, otherwise we wouldn't have come to work today." Chuckles abound! I was waiting for a "Tip your waitress" or "Try the veal" at the end, but it never came.

And lastly, they informed us that since there was a lot of wind, the captain advised them to stay seated for the less-than-one-hour flight. Therefore, there would not be any snack or beverage service. Fine by me, although water did sound good and I had purposely held off from buying a $5 bottle since I was about to get some on the plane. All was forgiven ten minutes into the flight though when the seated flight attendants started chucking huge plastic bags filled with small peanut packages down the center aisle. "Take however many you want and pass it around," they said. It was hilarious, and everyone was having a good time trying to stop the bags and passing them around. "Juice is next!" she said, and we all laughed. Oh, Southwest, how you almost make me not yearn for more legroom. Almost.

I took one of the bags of peanuts, and after a minute, laughed to myself. On the front, it says, "Dry Roasted Peanuts." On the back, it says, "Ingredients: Dry Roasted Peanuts, Salt." Underneath that, it says, "Produced in a facility that processes peanuts and other nuts." Well no shit! Look, I fully understand that people (like loyal UOPTA reader Allergic Diner - allergicdiner.blogspot.com) have severe food allergies and that peanut allergies are very bad ones. However, it's a frickin' bag of peanuts. Anyone who doesn't know that the bag of peanuts was processed where they process peanuts is a moron.

Hey, I have another story about peanuts and airplanes. Weird. A couple of years ago, my lovely wife was on a flight somewhere. Since it was going to be a couple of hours and the plane wasn't serving food, she packed herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. One of the flight attendants made an announcement that there was a child with a severe peanut allergy on the plane, so they wouldn't be passing out peanuts. Being conscientious, my lovely wife called the flight attendant over and asked if she would still be able to eat her sandwich. "Well, you could, but because of that, a small child would get very ill," the attendant told her condescendingly. "Even though he's at the back of the plane?" she asked. Apparently so, she was told, because of the ventilation system. So she went without food for the flight, and as soon as she was off the plane, she found a seat and tore into her sandwich. Five seconds later, the kid and his parents walked by, one foot away from her. Nice.

Lastly, and not related to anything really whatsoever: Is there any product more universally used in direct contrast to its printed instructions than the Q-tip? "Do not enter swab into ear canal," it says. I think that has to be the #1 product in this made-up category, don't you?

Ok, time for the section you've waited 1,120 words for: Car Watch! We have a very special Car Watch for you this week, boys and girls, because there's actually a theme amongst the three items. Is that crazy shit or what? (Answer: Yes, Peter, that is indeed crazy shit.) I shall call this, "Car Watch: Mistaken Identity Edition." Crap, that sounds way cooler than what you're about to read, so sorry about that.

First off, my homey Rockabye sent me this message in regards to a license plate he saw: "RGE RVR. Actually it's a Land Rover, apparently with rage." I always get confused about this, but Land Rover is the make of the vehicle, and Range Rover is one of their models. Apparently this one wasn't a Range Rover, and it certainly wasn't a Rage Rover. That sounds like a rabid dog to me.

Second, I was behind a car with this plate: "VEEDUB 1." So you might be wondering, "Was it a Jetta? A Passat? A convertible Bug?" Nope, it was a Saturn SUV. Because that makes total sense. The only way I'd be ok with that whole situation is if the driver's initials are VW and s/he goes by Veedub as a nickname. Still, if there were a car called the Peekay, I wouldn't put that on my plate unless I was driving that type of car. But maybe that's just me.

Lastly, and best I believe, my lovely wife called me to say that she was next to a car with the plate, "FROOGAL." In this world of excess upon excess, I appreciate those who are wise and cautious with their money. Oh wait, it was a shiny new BMW. My bad. At least it wasn't a Lotus or anything.

Ok, that's enough of this bullshit for today, don't you agree? I'll be back next Friday with more of whatever it is I do here. In the meantime: Happy Half-Birthday to my friend Lindsey tomorrow, who's still coming down from the shock of Clay Aiken's admission that he's gay. It's ok, Linds, we'll help you through this. Also, Happy Half-Birthday to my favorite sister-in-law Weezie on Wednesday. Happy Anniversary to our friends Suzanne and Andrew on Thursday. And no offense, but most importantly, Happy Fantasy Basketball Draft to me on Sunday night. Wish me luck. And if you feel like writing me for any reason at all, ptklein@gmail.com is how to see that desire all the way through to completion. Shaloha, folks.