Airplanes

One of my favorite things to do is lie. Let me clarify two things 1) I don’t mean on the ground or in bed and 2) I don’t mean about things that are important. I’m specifically talking about lying to people on airplanes. Don’t lie to the people in the airport or you could find yourself in some American POW camp that doesn’t exist on paper but feel free to lie to the person sitting next to you on the airplane.

Especially if they got the window seat.

My real life is pretty boring so I like to spice things up for the trip by inventing a fictitious, awesome life for the person who won’t quit asking me about it. I never plan for it either. I just start answering their incessant questions with anything but the truth. I also try not to use the same story twice. I’ve been everything from a Santeria priest on his way to Cuba to a member of an obscure, Hungarian pop group Egészségedra¹. The latter was hard to pull off because I speak absolutely zero Hungarian but, luckily, neither did the women sitting next to me.

I’d like to tell you that this rapid-pace, off-the-cuff lying is good for your prefrontal cortex or something but I don’t really know if that’s true and we’re not currently on an airplane so I won’t lie to you. All I can tell you is that it’s a much better way to pass the time than watching Galaxy Quest and drinking Ginger Ale². The funny thing is, I’ve never even thought to do this to a beautiful woman.

One time, on my way from San Francisco to Honolulu, I found my self sitting in the Business Class section with no one else but this woman that looked like a cross between Tia Carrere and Ziyi Zhang. One would think that this might’ve been the perfect time to be a Hungarian pop singer but, instead of using my powers of deception for good (to possibly impress girls) I made the fatal mistake of telling her my actual story.

Which was lame.

The weird part is that I don’t really lie any other time. I mean, sure I’ll tell a telemarketer than it’s against my religion to refinance my home or own a Craftmatic® adjustable bed. I might even tell a panhandler that I’m all out of change but I’d never obstruct justice or anything like that.

I’d never lie about anything important.

The ethical ramifications of lying on an airplane never even occur to me. I think it’s because we’re not technically on earth. We’re still within the constraints of gravity and atmosphere but we’re actually several miles away from earth. Ethics don’t count as much up here. At this height, I may actually be a Santeria priest (I’m just not actually going to Cuba – yet. One day, I might actually go to Cuba so in a vague way I could be “on my way to Cuba.”)

I’m guessing that the rules can be bent when you’re off of the planet.


¹There is no such pop group; this is the only Hungarian word I know.
²Why does everyone seem to drink Ginger Ale on airplanes?