My dad was very focused on mortality and would often say things like “actuarially speaking” or “as an actuary would point out” … “how many years do I really have left?”
He also often said “At my age, I no longer buy green bananas,” which made a lot more sense to me.
What the heck is an actuary anyway?
Sounds like someone who runs seances with the dead or reads your palm to predict the future.
Actually, not that far off (except for the seances with the dead part, although I now have actuary friends and seances with the dead would liven up their dinner parties).
According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics (or what is left of it), actuaries “use mathematics, statistics, and financial theory to analyze the economic costs of risk and uncertainty.”
Take away the math, stats and theory and it sounds like any Jewish mother.
As we have gotten older, my wife Robin and I joke that we have become amateur actuaries.
Not that we previously were courageous, swashbuckling risk takers living on the edge, but we now seem to see risks lurking behind every corner.
“Why is that biker not wearing a helmet?”
“That car is tailgating much too close to the car in front of it.”
To our credit, we are not necessarily (but don’t put it past us) identifying risks from our rockers. Often we are out biking or hiking and not just sitting home acting our age.
“There are way too many potholes on this road for safe biking.”
“Is that rattlesnake on your foot supposed to be making all that noise?”
Recently, we took a vacation to Prince Edward Island in Canada which involved a two hour flight to Halifax, a four hour drive to our B&B, and all my self-control throughout not to occasionally yell out “Are you sure you guys don’t want to become the 51st State? Would really improve our Olympic hockey team!”
The flight over was no problem.
On our return trip, we discovered that Halifax has a special customs and waiting area exclusively for Americans.
Hmmm. Was it something we said?
Presumably, this was once due to exceptionally friendly relations between neighbors, and the Canadians we met could not have been nicer, although I did wonder if they only recently decided to isolate us away from the more preferable international tourists.
So, with this important background information, you now can imagine how cool, calm and collected we two hobby actuaries were when we peaked out of the airport window and saw that Air Canada had pulled up a less than majestic propeller plane to our gate.
Who knew airlines still used propeller planes?!!
Here is a picture of our actual plane.
In lieu of an engine, the plane had seven hamsters running on a wheel to power the motor.
Once we were all on the plane and settled in, the stewardess actually said (to quote Joe Biden … “no joke”), we need seven people to move from the front of the plane to the back of the plane to balance out the weight before we can take off.
What?
It is one thing that we were required to do some crop dusting in Ontario on the way down, but it was even more unnerving that when the plane needed to veer to the right the pilot came over the loudspeaker and asked everyone to lean over to their right.
There was another announcement from the pilot once we were over Vermont that he needed another seven people to parachute down to Burlington to further balance out the weight.
Wasn’t airplane flying once glamorous?
Why can’t we be like Leonardo DiCaprio in “Catch Me If You Can” waltzing into the terminal with Frank Sinatra belting out “Come Fly With Me.”
“Back in the day,” people would drink and carouse and join the “Mile High Club” with other passengers they had just met. Sometimes even with the pilot.
None of that happens today (and is not even allowed as a fantasy on a propeller plane).
Long lines. Cancellations. The T.S.A. Luggage lost, or, even if not lost, taking forever to reach you in the baggage claim. Yuk!
The baggage problem is perhaps the easiest to solve so that countless people now only bring carry-on baggage on airplane trips.
Even if they will be traveling for six months.
Even if they are moving to Europe.
Last year, we tried using only carry-on bags for a one week trip to Oregon. We then felt so cocky that we used only carry-on bags for a two-week trip to France which included six days of bicycling.
This type of packing is very intricate and involves wearing the same clothes over and over and dressing like Oscar Madison.
There are websites and articles scientifically determining how this “capsule wardrobe” can be best accomplished.
Amanda from New York writes to the NY Times’ Ask Vanessa column “I am planning an international trip and want to dress cute, but I have an over-packing problem. And no clue of how to make a capsule wardrobe. Any guidance?”
For the record, I have never dressed cute. Haphazard is more like it.
Who is this Vanessa telling me how to pack and dress? Well, apparently, she is the NY Times’ chief fashion critic ready for you to send to her all of your fashion-related questions.
Alternatively, you can send them to me and you will look like Oscar Madison.
We are told “It’s the math baby.”
There is the 3-3-3 ratio (three tops, three bottoms, three pairs of shoes) or the 5-4-3-2-1 formula (five tops, four bottoms, three pairs of shoes, two layering pieces, one anything else, like pajamas).
Yep, wearing the same clothes over and over.
Robin and I also need to make room for reflector vests, first aid kits and road flares.
One trick I have learned is that a guy can get into the nicest restaurant or hotspot without being self-conscious in the least as long as he is wearing a sport coat.
Yes, even if he is ONLY wearing a sport coat, plus a thong bikini bottom and flip flops. Not that I have tried that outfit. Often. Except when dressing cute.
There are even videos on line showing how to properly fold a sport coat without it wrinkling.
“One, grab the suit jacket and pop those shoulders inside out. Two, fold it in half so the lapels touch. Three fold it. Again. Four throw it in your bag. Five, when you get out pop the shoulders back into place.” Six, are you kidding?
This is my sport coat once I finished following the detailed instructions on line and reached my destination.
To sum up. Flying was once fun and cool and chic and now it is not.
But you can travel for three weeks with one pair of underwear, three shirts, two turtle doves, one pair of pants and look like you stepped out of a GQ advertisement as long as you are wearing your wrinkled sport coat.
Just be very careful when you are stepping out of the GQ advertisement since it kinda looks unsafe and might be a fall risk.
Thanks for reading Making Good Time! This post is public so feel free to share it.
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.