It’s election day, I’m traveling, and all of the sudden competition and sports metaphors are running through my head like Dez Bryant on an 84-yard tear to the end zone. Here’s one of my favorite by Candy Crowley written about the 2008 presidential candidate, Fred Thompson:
Candy Crowley: “The bass haven’t been biting because Fred Thompson hasn’t been fishing with nightcrawlers. He’s been fishing with gummi worms, and the voters know it.”
Kudos to the Huff Post for putting a great list together about that particular competition. And speaking of competitions, yesterday I walked into a doozy I didn’t even realize had commenced: the airline Barf Bag Throwdown. Ever since my last flight to Atlanta, I guess air sickness bags have move up to a higher priority in my gray matter. Click here for 101 Uses for a Delta Airlines Barf-Bag, #93.
The contest made itself known when I decided to visit the “lavatory” (who SAYS that word?) somewhere in the air between Oklahoma City and Chicago yesterday afternoon. Thankful I have learned to keep my camera with me WHEREVER I go, I spied this little compartment upon entering the “facilities.”
Well, all of the sudden I felt like one of those nosy people on a sitcom who begins trolling through the bathroom cabinets of the protagonist’s abode. I had to look! While I expected to be met with a box of bags, or a nice little neat stack of plastic-coated amenities, here’s what I found instead:
Well, first of all. Sympathies all around to any man who feels like he’s going to hurl, runs to the lavatory and finds THAT stack of supplies! Secondly, the air sickness bag subject had just moved to the tip-top of my gray matter and now I was curious. I headed back to my seat and began digging. And digging. Then I removed the magazines and finally found my own personal barf bag in the very bottom of that oh-so-important seat-back compartment we travelers use for many more things than reading materials. I pulled it out and heard a little deflating, “bummer-like” cartoon noise in my head: “Wah, wah, wahhhh.”
The bag was wrinkled, worn and the built-in twist-tie topper was tearing on both ends. I thought back to my experience with Delta. Their bags were visible, sturdy and in my distorted and biased view because I had been saved by them, the leading competitor in Kelly’s private in-her-head Barf Bag Throwdown.
I narrowed my eyes, wrinkled my nose and stuffed the offending bag back into the seat compartment making sure the tattered top was showing for someone who might need it. Delta had fished with night crawlers, and American Airlines was just out there messing around with gummi worms. Score one for the Atlanta-based airline, my clear winner in this unseemly battle.
My look of resolve and deep intrigue was not private, however, because as I settled back with into my seat I glanced around the cabin to find my seatmate looking at me with more than a slight air of concern. I smiled at her, got out my book and began reading.
