Monday, March 26, 2007

Thoughts on a Plane

Here are things that went through my head on a recent airplane plane trip from New York City, NY to Seattle, WA:

This airplane safety video is fucking hilarious! Oxygen masks drop down from the ceiling of a plane. A man puts down his magazine and calmly places it over his mouth. He then begins to smile. HE’S SMILING???

Maybe it’s not that shocking. I would totally think it was hilarious to be on the set of a fake airplane and be forced to pretend the air pressure was dropping and that I was about to die. How could I not smile at least a little?

Man, I love listening to the Pixies. Wait, is it “The Pixies or just Pixies?” I think it’s funny when a band doesn’t have the word “the” in front of their name, but the “the” gets added on anyway. I wonder if this observation is all that interesting?

Hmm… would I still enjoy the music of Pixies if I heard Frank Black use the N-word?

Airplane magazines are almost as funny as people who buy things out of them. People who buy $500 golf club covers in the stupid airplane gift catalog will most definitely be killed when the revolution comes.

Will I be killed in the revolution??? I went to an expensive private, liberal arts college in Maine and currently have health insurance. Oh shit…

I wonder how airplane food caterers get chosen. How does that decision get made? Is there a “taste-off?

“37 minutes without throwing up. That’s our best test time. I guess you win Aeromark.”

Holy shit, did I just think that? That’s some hacky shit.

Man, why do comedians always have stupid airplane jokes? Rather, why do they always say them out loud? Everyone has the same thoughts. It’s not interesting. Comedians are stupid.

Alright JetBlue, let’s watch some TV. Dane Cook?!?!


The idea that more Americans might have seen Dane Cook perform than have read Kurt Vonnegut makes me cringe.

Oh, who the hell am I to say that? I barely read. When I do read it’s ALWAYS Vonnegut. Vonnegut is safe. I can rely on him to be funny, cynical, and brilliant. I need to take a risk and read something different.

Hmmm… the last time I took a risk and read something different was probably in the third grade when I decided to venture into the Babysitter’s Club series I noticed many of the girls in my class were reading. Oh, how the children teased me when they found out. Little bastards.

If I ever meet Kurt Vonnegut before he passes (or possibly after, if you believe in that sort of thing), I wonder if I’ll say something worth saying to him or if I’ll simply blabber on like a moron like the two times I’ve met Paul Mooney.

Oh man, what’s that sound? God, I hate turbulence. It freaks me out. Oh man, I hope I don’t die. Fuck…

Ok, everything’s fine. Everything is definitely fine. The flight attendant is not freaking out. He’s coming around with the soda cart. If something was wrong, he wouldn’t be serving drinks…unless he’s THE BEST FLIGHT ATTENDANT IN THE WORLD.

I’ve been trying to avoid soda, but fuck it. If this plane does goes down, I’m going to enjoy an ice cold soda before it does. I’m getting a Dr. Pepper. I haven’t had one in a while and I like it. Hmm…maybe a Diet Dr. Pepper, in case the plane doesn’t go down. If we survive, I don’t want the calories…and surprisingly enough, Diet Dr. Pepper indeed does taste almost exactly like regular Dr. Pepper. Amazing!

The whole Diet Soda thing is pretty crazy. The fact it has no calories is due to the fact that the sugar in it is replaced by aspartame. This is a chemical proven to cause cancer in lab rats! When given the choice between cancer and getting fat…people choose cancer.

God, there is nothing on television. The perfect television experience for a 6 hour plane trip is 12 straight episodes of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Who doesn’t know this?

The hippie Canadian kid who is sitting next to me is not wearing deodorant and keeps farting. Is the white woman next to me going to think it is me making that smell? Being a brown person means fearing white people thinking you are dirty. Elementary school fears of being called the smelly Indian kid. Racist little bastards.

Hmm…if she, in fact, thinks it’s the hippie kid that’s stinking it up, does that possibly mean she’s prejudiced against hippies? How does the progressive mind handle this situation?

Oh shit! Did we just hit something? What was that little thud? A bird? No, that’s not possible.

Hmm…if a bird does gets killed in the air by an airplane, is it “skykill,” as opposed to “roadkill?” Why couldn’t it be? Who gets to decide what is a credible phrase and what isn’t? Aren’t we all potential creators of language and culture?

If I start telling people that I’m the reincarnation of Lord Vishnu will they respect me more? Or would they respect me less because they think I’m crazy. Will I punish them for thinking I’m crazy? Am I a vengeful God?

Potential names for kids:








Uma Lakshmi


I guess this is the kind of decision one is supposed to make with a life partner. I hope I meet someone who likes Hindu mythology as much as I do.

I miss my little brother already. I can’t believe he’s 21. He’ll always be 12 to me. That little rat.

Maybe I should stop using that Microsoft joke with the word “sandnigger” in it?

“My name is Hari. It’s pronounced a few different ways in this country. HURRY, HAR-REE, HARRY…since 9/11 I’ve been called ‘Sandnigger.”

I think it’s a fairly clever joke, but it has the unintended consequence of an increased number people saying that terrible word to me.

“I love that sandnigger joke!”

The joke is about my name being misspelled on Microsoft Word. The sandnigger part is only a brief part of the set up. I’m starting to think many people just want to have a reason to use that word. Damnit!! This makes me feel uncomfortable and I worry I’m being counterproductive. Am I potentially adding to the problem by using that word? But shit, don’t I need to be real about post-9/11 America’s racism towards Brown people?

Does replacing it with “camel jockey” make it better? That word is too comical. I want to make a serious point there. Damn, what to do…what to do…

“I just bought these shoes yesterday. They’re still very uncomfortable. I need to wear them in.”

Why did this hippie dude choose to interrupt my thoughts with that nonsense? Oh man, he must be crazy.

Oh shit, the airplane just made a weird sound! Oh fuck this shit, I’ll write to the death!

I haven’t updated my comedy journal in a long time. The fact I recently learned that my whole extended family and my mother’s co-workers read it, kind of takes the fun out of it for me.

“Uma, your son curses too much.”

“Hari, stop cursing so much on your website!”


Hmmm…I wonder…

“Uma, your son is a virgin?”

“Hari, stop being a virgin!!”


I wonder if I could publish these thoughts anywhere else if they turn out really funny.

Why do I always think about my writing like this?

Why can’t I just write without thinking about a potential audience? Who cares what people think of my thoughts? Why can’t anything I create just be for me? Why do other people have to see it?

Potential girlfriend bait?

Hmm…would it be rude to buy that Vegan girl I think is cute a bottle of iron pills? She might think it is cute that I’m worried about her getting anemia. I’m very thoughtful.

Do I really think the crowds in Seattle are as smart as I tell people they are, or do I just say that in order to make people think my comedy is really smart? Do I need to feel my comedy is “really smart” to justify doing comedy at all? Do I need a smart hobby? Is this just a hobby anymore?

Will my parents get nervous and freak out if they read that last sentence? Will they even read this far?

It was nice seeing my family this Christmas. I used to love the Christmas holiday before all that religion and “traditional family values” stuff got connected to it. We had a little plastic tree, pictures of Santa Claus, stockings… the whole deal. Bill O’Reilly and right-wing Christians ruined Christmas for me.

Ok, time to sleep.