REQUIEM FOR A DOLLAR
The guy in front of me won’t shut up.
I’m sitting on an airplane, on my way to Santa Barbara and the guy just won’t shut up. Thank God he’s not sitting next to me. Swear to God, I’d pretend to fall asleep then throw a nervous elbow into his face. Whoops. Sorry about that.
I’m a pretty non-violent guy, but I believe a well earned wallop to the jaw isn’t all that bad a thing. If a guy’s out of line, then one may be morally obligated to give them a good pop on the nose. You know, as a gift. POP. Don’t mention it.
Hell, in days of old all you’d have to do was cuss in front of a lady and you’d earn a busted lip. (Granted, those were the days when you could find a lady, but I digress.)
Heath Ledger died about four hours ago. I didn’t know it until sitting on the airplane. But there was a stop over in Phoenix, I had my laptop open and I guess I picked up the terminal’s signal. A quick click to the BBC and there it was.
And I’m shocked. Stunned. So, I turned to the guy sitting up ahead of me, breaking the ‘perfect stranger’ protocol and I tell him. “Heath Ledger is dead.” Laughing, the man says, “Ya, I’m all broken up.”
That’s what the man said. And I’ve been sitting here on the plane staring blankly into the seat in front of me trying to get it out of my head. Last time I’d heard anything like it was 9/11 and (as people leaped to their deaths) some liberal wack job at Fitness World said the same thing. (I pushed him into a wall, cracked the mirror and lost my membership.)
And so, I’m at a loss. Do I smack him from behind the seat? I don’t know. That would somehow break the rules, you know? Never kick a man when he’s down. Never smack a guy in a airplane. I have my honor after all.
Perhaps I’ll just let him sit, mouth ajar, cackling into the recycled wind and take comfort that the man is 35,000 feet in the air. For the moment, the world below is a more pleasant place to be.
I was never a big fan of Heath Ledger, but I knew a damn good actor when I saw one. But one doesn’t need to be a fan to feel saddened by his passing. But since Hollywood doesn’t celebrate anything but death, I know by the time I get home, the tributes and musical montages will be choking the airwaves. We’ll have everyone from Danny Bonaducci to Donald Trump commenting on it. Every loser, acquaintance and ex-drug addicted actor coming out of the closet to grant an opinion. Every burp and fart wanna-be rising from the mire to suck on a microphone for their proverbial fifteen. It going to make me sick.
It would make Heath sick.
And that’s about as close as I’ll ever know you brother. You’ve become in death, everything you despised in life. I can only pray for your family and wish you a safe crossing.
As for me? I suppose I’ll just wait for the book deal. Your masseuse will soon have an agent.
Ironically, it’ll probably be yours.
*In other news. A publisher in the Netherlands has been given 3 years hard labour in prison for publishing a cartoon. Arnold Shwarzennegger has banned the terms “Mom and Dad’ from the Los Angeles Unified School District, and the children’s book ‘The Three Little Pigs’ has been deemed “too offensive” to Muslims by England’s Educational Agency and therefore banned.
Worthless bits of news you won’t see on CNN.
As usual Colin, you get right to the heart of the matter, and sadly you were right on target. My heart hurts for the Ledger family; mourning & grieving is hard enough, but to do it in the midst of this must be hell.
Good luck in Santa Barbara. Hope they love it as much as we did!!
Jane
Hope Santa Barbara went well…looking forward to a report!
“(Granted, those were days when you could find a lady, but I digress.)”
ahem I still know a few…
“But since Hollywood doesn’t celebrate anything but death, I know by the time I get home, the tributes and musical montages will be choking the airwaves. “
I felt the same way in 1977, when Elvis died. I was in Spain at the time, thought I would miss most of the maudlin tributes…wrong.
borrows Colin’s soapbox
Coverage of Ledger’s death reminds me of the “three C’s” of emergency response…”Check, call, care.”
Quoting from the American Red Cross website:
“First Aid Primer If you encounter someone who is injured, apply the emergency action steps: Check-Call-Care.
—Check the scene— to make sure it is safe for you to approach. Then —check the victim— for unconsciousness and life-threatening conditions.
Someone who has a life-threatening condition, such as not breathing or severe bleeding, requires immediate care by trained responders and may require treatment by medical professionals. —Call out for help.— [Call, or have someone else call, 911. gam]
There are some steps that you can take, however, to —care— for someone who is hurt, but whose injuries are not life threatening.”
[emphases and notes mine]
More info at: http://www.redcross.org/services/disaster/0,1082,0589,00.html
passes back soapbox with thanks
I’m also not a huge fan of Heath, and of course I have had the double whammy of living in his home town with the funeral just down the road, however in this case I beleive it will end up being a blessing. Perth is the remotest city in the world, way of the beaten track and being the case, perhaps the sensationalism of his death will wear off a little quicker being that his final resting place is not somewhere accessable to all the mourning “losers, acquaintances and ex-drug addicted actors”
As they say, out of sight, out of mind… I’m sure Heath and his family would want it that way.