The People in My Neighborhood

Glamourpuss could hardly believe that the big day had finally arrived! A ten hour flight was all that stood between her and pure spring break bliss. Ten hours. On a plane. With a random assortment of random bodies. A cast of characters really, each of whom would gain an identity after Glamourpuss summed up exactly who each was based on nothing more than what he or she chose to read.

Now, on a ten hour flight, Glamourpuss comes prepared. Despite a laughable susceptibility to motion sickness, she always flies with a host of mags to keep her occupied. The newest issue of Glamour, of course; Cosmo; Seventeen if she’s feeling giddy; Vogue, if she want to look like a heavyweigt; People or US for a little scandal; and a copy of Newsweek if it dawns on her that she’s been cocooned in the anti-real world, Camp Harvard, for too long.

After a quick glance around he cabin, Glamourpuss has spotted first character: the Avid Book-Reader. Middle-aged woman with a tattered copy of something long. Though flight time is knocking at the door of infinity, Avid Book-Reader never really advances in her reading. The yellowed pages of said book remain frozen though she’s even got it open during snack time and the in flight movie. (No, Avid Book-Reader does not enjoy the TNT air-network premier of Bound and Gagged: the Life and Times of Harry Houdini). Avid Book-Reader hates to be disturbed, especially by Glamourpuss’ hourly trips to the supply-closet-turned-bathroom because disturbances jog her mind back into the reality of the horribly cramped seats and tummy-piercing tray table. In her mind’s eye, Avid Book-Reader is in the arms of Fabio or some other bottle blond Adonis. Glamourpuss notes that Avid Book-Reader insists on re-reading pages 307-10. Ineresting. Glamourpuss vows to sneak a peek at said pages if Avid Book-Reader ever dislodges herself from her seat. The possibility seems remote.

In the row behind the Avid Book-Reader sits the silver haired Business Man. Wire rimed glasses, bloody Mary in the middle of the afternoon, cell phone and laptop. Business Man always asks for more peanuts. Crisp oxford shirt, paisley tie. Business Man talks loudly in the airport terminal, to his wife, to his secretary, to himself. Business Man reads Business Week or Fortune 500. Glamourpuss has never touched these publications and therefore has nothing in common with Business Man. Flights next to men such as these tend to seem twice as long as they actually are. Especially if Business Man falls asleep. He always snores.

When New Family’s colicky baby punctures the silence with his yelping, the neighborhood begins to feel more like a prison. Help. New Family has brought all the books the little ones could ever want. Berenstien Bears, Golden Books, Dr. Seuss. Perhaps if Glamourpuss offers to take one of New Family’s 80 children to the bathroom on one of her many trips she can score a little alone time with Green Eggs and Ham.

While New Family is all hustle bustle, stinky diapers and requests for more of those little cookies, Established Family is all quiet stares and snotty quips. It seems that dad is making teenaged boy and girl travel with the family instead of letting them spend free time with their friends. Established Family’s teenaged boy doesn’t read. He listens to something with lots of bass for ten whole hours. He bops a-rhythmically and mouths the words with gusto and pseudo-gansta angst. Established family’s teenaged girl eyes Galmourpuss’ Seventeen magazine. Grrr…. this two-paged ‘Are You Way Too Jealous?’ quiz is not communal property, missy. Established Family will have ten hours of tension if mom is an Avid Book-Reader and dad is a Business Man. They’ve got nothing to talk about and make the stewardesses nervous.

Glamourpuss feels a tap on her shoulder. Oh dear. A Talker. His guise: an exchange of reading material. As though Glamourpuss wants to read his copy of the complimentary airline magazines or his flight emergency instructions. Terse conversation ensues. Glamourpuss’ first attempt at the-world’s-dirtiest-look has obviously failed. The Talker has a slight paunch and is about to exchange his membership at the thinning hair club for one at the bald guy’s club. The Talker has mildly offensive breath and obviously forgot any good reading material. His smile is genuine, however, and in a rare moment of something resembling kindness, Glamourpuss gives him her twice read copy of Cosmo, keeping her finger open to the new spring workout page.

Last, but certainly not least, in this temporary neighborhood is the Couple. Glamourpuss wonders if she should think about the Couple as two separate people, but since they eat from the same tray, drink from the same cup and are reading the same book—Dr. So and So’s Twenty-Five Tips for Lasting Happiness—it would be better to think about them as a unit. The Couple has a high and mighty air because they aren’t flying solo anymore but they aren’t yet a stressed New Family. The Couple can barely keep their hands off of one another, they make the stewardess come back to them when ordering drinks because they just have to finish their conversation. Glamourpuss gives the Couple a wayward glance and then continues the article about young love gone wrong. With a sardonic smile she knows that this one exudes too much hype to be the real deal.

Hour six. The flight is more than halfway done and the cast of characters have all but faded into the background with the whir of the engine. Glamourpuss drifts off to sleep knowing that when the plane touches down, the neighborhood will once again become a random group of people, each with a different story to tell and a different trip to take.

Antoinette C. Nwandu ’02 is an English concentrator in Cabot house. Her column appears on alternate Mondays.