Allow me to begin with a slightly off-topic public service message: Do not clip your fingernails on airplanes.
It never occurred to me that I would have to make such a public request. Of course, it never occurred to me that the guy sitting next to me on a five-hour flight to Los Angeles would clip his nails for 30 minutes, either. But that very thing happened on a trip I took in April.
Unbelievably, it was the third time since the beginning of the year that I’d been seated within spitting distance of someone who chose a long flight to give himself a manicure. Each time I was tempted to voice my disgust, but I seemed to be the only one who noticed. I’m beginning to worry that nail clipping is becoming one of those things–like drinking ginger ale–that people just do on airplanes.
It was as we were getting settled in for the long trip that the man to my left took out his clippers. I didn’t notice until the first loud CLICK, which I heard over the José González song playing on my iPod. It was revolting, but I assumed that it was an emergency, maybe a hangnail. But he kept going. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
The problem with nail-clipping in public–and in a confined space where movement is restricted–is the random flight of each distal edge after it’s liberated from the nail plate. Think of a beginning golfer at a driving range or pinball. I soon became obsessed. With each new CLICK, I looked out of the corner of my eye, praying that the small white crescent moon did not land in my Canada Dry. The clipping went on for hours–or minutes that felt like hours, anyway. In a desperate effort to distract myself I grabbed a copy of the SkyMall catalogue in the seat pocket in front of me.
I’d flipped through the SkyMall cata–logue from time to time, but I’d never read it. Does anyone read it? And does anyone actually buy this stuff? By page 17, I was completely engrossed.
That page included a photograph of The Voice Activated R2-D2. The description that accompanies the pictures tells us that the 15-inch replica of the Star Wars droid “responds to over 40 voice commands and navigates rooms and hallways.” Its other features are certain to appeal to the lonely science fiction geeks who might be willing to shell out $115 for the mini-robot. Not only can R2-D2 “follow behind you” if you’re looking for a little companionship after a long day, but he also “plays games like tag.”
Animals get lonely, too, according to the entry for the Automatic Cat Toy ($79.95). “Most of us work 40 hours a week, leaving our housecats alone in empty, quiet homes leading to separation anxiety, laziness or behavior problems (for the cat).” And, one supposes, for its guilt-ridden owner. The answer is an electronic mouse. “Our new automatic programmable cat toy plays with your cat when you’re away! Its programmable timer activates the toy at set intervals, arousing the cat’s hunting instincts and encouraging playful activity. . . . Perhaps the best gift your cat will ever receive.”
Not if your cat gets the Advanced Large Capacity Feline Drinking Fountain ($69.95). The fancy bowl was “developed by a veterinarian with the help of an animal behaviorist,” and by “reducing the risk of urinary tract infection and kidney disease” it might actually extend Felix’s life. The Adjustable Pet Feeder ($29.95), essentially a dog bowl with two heights, may not be a lifesaver, but by helping your dog “eat in a healthier position, all life long,” it is quite effective at “minimizing gas.”
Many of the gadgets in the photo-packed catalogue appeal to the animal-obsessed. There are four different pet ramps/steps to help old/arthritic/lazy pets climb onto a couch or bed ($79.95-$199.95). There is a canine GPS system ($199.95), an “indoor dog restroom” ($149.95), and, to “avoid injury during sudden stops or an accident,” a dog seat belt ($69.95).
Such accidents are preventable, especially if you wear Piloti Driving Shoes ($85) with the Roll Control heel that helps “with precise pedal application.” Since it’s summer, you might consider instead the H.S. Trask Driving Sandal ($130), on the opposite page, which doesn’t have the Roll Control heel, but a “wrap-around heel pad” that prevents scuffs and “specially-designed soles [that] grip your car’s pedals.”
Writers often work under the illusion that they have some special ability to understand and explain their fellow man. I suppose I’m no different.
But I don’t think I will ever quite get someone who plays tag with a mini-droid, buys a seat belt for his dog, or owns a pair of driving sandals.
Not to mention a guy who clips his nails on an airplane.
STEPHEN F. HAYES
