Every Boy's Got One Page 2
I wish I were on that plane that’s stuck in the San Francisco airport instead of on this one. I would rather have a deadly virus than have to spend a minute more in the company of Cal Langdon, aka Cell Phone Guy, aka Mark Levine’s Best Friend.
Oh, but guess what? HE’S SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME. That’s what he was so mad about before. He was calling Travel Services at the Journal , trying to get them to change his seat so he could sit in business class, or at least on the aisle, and not in the middle, like he is now.
Ha ha. Ha ha, Cal In the Middle. Hope you like bumping your elbow into mine every five seconds, Mr. IHighly-Doubt-Anyone-Is-Going-To-Steal-Your-Water,-Miss. Because I am SO not giving up my aisle seat. No way.
And don’t expect me to share my water with you, either. OR my Toblerone. Or my cheese popcorn. I don’t care how long we’re stuck on this runway, or what kind of virus might get into the ventilation system. You’re getting nada from me, mister.
I’m not telling Holly how much I hate her husband’s best man, though. I don’t want to spoil this special time for her.
I am so not going to be able to give them this travel diary as a wedding gift. Oh well. It’s probably just as well, since my handwriting is barely legible, thanks to the Armrest Nazi next to me. Excuse me, Mr. I’m- So-Big-I-Need-To-Take-Up-Your-Space-Too. Could you please move your stupid hairy arm with the stupid waterproof watch that tells the altitude and the exact time on all seven continents which I know you so need, being such a fancy world traveler who knows so much about foreign policy and things a poor little cartoonist like me couldn’t even begin to understand?
I’ll tell you one thing: if this is a setup, Holly is dead. I mean, I know she doesn’t like Malcolm, but could she seriously, even for one second, entertain the idea that I might like Mister Nothing-Comes-Between- Me-And-My-Blackberry here? Please! He asked me what I do for a living (he was so just making conversation because Holly and Mark are seated right behind us, and he didn’t want to look like the Uptight Anal Retentive Control Freak he really is in front of them), and when I said I was a cartoonist, he was like, “You’re kidding.”
Totally deadpan. You’re kidding.
And get this: he’s never heard of Wondercat.
Never. Heard. Of. Wonder. Cat.
He has to be lying. He writes for the paper in which Wondercat was born.
And OK, he’s abroad all the time, and you can’t get the Journal everywhere. But doesn’t he watch television ? He may have been gallivanting all around the world for the past decade, but excuse me, he’s back now, promoting his stupid book. Hasn’t he seen Wondercat’s commercial for energy saving products on New York One? Everyone watches New York One, if only to check the temperature.
My God. Who is this guy? And why does Mark even like him????
I think I’m going to have to have a word with Holly. Does she know what she’s getting herself into, marrying a man who’d be best friends with a guy who doesn’t watch TV????
e-mails
___________________________________________
To: Mark Levine
Fr: Cal Langdon
Re: I’m going to kill you
What in hell is a Wondercat?
Cal
___________________________________________
To: Cal Langdon
Fr: Mark Levine
Re: I’m going to kill you
Excuse me. I don’t believe you are allowed to use these things on planes.
Mark
PS You didn’t tell her you didn’t know who Wondercat is, did you?
___________________________________________
To: Mark Levine
Fr: Cal Langdon
Re: I’m going to kill you
You can’t use them while you’re in the air, according to the FAA— although I doubt the veracity of this, as I’ve left mine on plenty of times and none of my flights have ever plummeted into the sea because of it.
You can, however, still legally use them when you’re sitting uselessly on the tarmac while the air control tower guys are having a limbo contest, as they are apparently doing right now because I can see no other conceivable reason why we’re not being allowed to take off.
And yes, I did ask her what a Wondercat was. Is that why she is busy scribbling into the travel diary she bought at the duty free? Because I offended her so deeply with my lack of knowledge about her cat?
Cal
___________________________________________
To: Cal Langdon
Fr: Mark Levine
Re: I’m going to kill you
Yes. And stop emailing me, Holly keeps asking who I’m writing to. I told her it was the hospital, and now she’s mad that the hospital is emailing me when I’m supposed to be eloping.
Mark
___________________________________________
To: Mark Levine
Fr: Cal Langdon
Re: I’m going to kill you
How would the hospital even know that, anyway? The word elope means to run away with a lover with the intention of wedding in secret. How secret is your wedding going to be if the hospital knows about it?
C
___________________________________________
To: Cal Langdon
Fr: Mark Levine
Re: I’m going to kill you
I had to tell the hospital I was getting married.And the paper. They weren’t going to give the time off, or let me out of my column, otherwise. DON’T TELL Holly. She still thinks the only people who know what we’re really doing are the four of us.
And of course the entire art department at the New York Journal . But she doesn’t know that I know that.
Mark
PS Quit writing to me. I’m turning this thing off.
___________________________________________
To: Mark Levine
Fr: Cal Langdon
Re: You Dog
Your secret’s safe with me.
But seriously. Is this girl one of those cat people? For the love of God please tell me I’m not going to be stuck in a middle seat in coach next to one of those cat people. She doesn’t carry around pictures of it in her wallet, does she? Her cat? Because I will suffer an aneurysm midair if that’s the case—
AT THIS TIME THE CAPTAIN HAS REQUESTED THAT ALL ELECTRONIC DEVICES BE TURNED OFF AND STOWED AWAY UNTIL WE HAVE REACHED CRUISING ALTITUDE
Notes Holly and Jane
What do you think of him?
Oh my God, Holly. What is this, the ninth grade? You’re passing me notes? On the PLANE????
Well, how else am I supposed to talk to you with the stupid food cart in the way? And they won’t let us turn on our Blackberries. Come on, hurry up, while he’s asleep. What do you think of him?
He’s not really asleep. He’s just faking it so he won’t have to talk to me. I know because he’s still playing armrest war with me. Every time I put my elbow on the armrest, he puts his there, too, to block mine.
You don’t like him?
Holly, he’s never heard of Wondercat!!!!
Janie, he’s been doing foreign correspondence for the past ten years. They don’t get family papers like the ones that run Wondercat in places like Kabul.
But you said he moved back to the US a couple of weeks ago—
And you think he should have spent those weeks catching up on YOUR comic, as opposed to, I don’t know, FINDING A PLACE TO LIVE???
Well. He also made fun of me for bringing so many bottles of water on board.
You do have kind of a lot.
Excuse me. Nine out of ten people found dead after
getting lost in the desert actually have water left in their canteens, they were just so concerned about conserving it, they didn’t drink enough of it to survive. It’s true. I saw it on the Discovery Channel.
Okay, okay. But what do you think of him???? Do you like him? He’s cute, right? I told you he was cute.
He seems very… smart.
The Blackberry thing. I knew it. I told Mark to tell him to put that thing away. I know nothing freaks you out more than guys who are smarter than you.
I can’t believe you just wrote that. First of all, it’s not even true, and second of all, in no way is Cal smarter than me. I mean, yes, he has traveled all over the world covering news stories about grisly wars and Ebola outbreaks and has written a book and stuff, but that does not mean he is smarter than I am. I mean, can he draw a cat?
Besides which, I happen to like smart men.
Right. Like Malcolm.
Oh, that’s low, even for you. I will have you know that Malcolm can do a 360-degree spin in midair and not lose his board.
You have got to stop dating snowboarders and musicians, Jane. You’re 30 years old now. You’ve got to start thinking about the future, and date people who will actually stick around for a change, instead of going off to their next X-Game or gig.
Maybe I don’t WANT a boyfriend who sticks around. Have you ever thought about that?
Then why did you cry so much those first couple weeks after Malcolm moved out?
I just felt bad for The Dude. You know they’d bonded.
Yeah, well, there’s that, too. The Dude needs some stability in his life. He might not bite people as much if he had a positive male role model in his life. The same could be said of you. Plus, financially, you’d be much better off with a partner who actually has steady employment. As a freelancer, you are paying a premium for health insurance. If you married a guy who had his own insurance— through, say, the paper—that’d be a big chunk of change saved. Plus you’d have security. And a 401K.
This is pretty funny coming from a woman who once spent an entire month’s rent money on a pair of purple leather pants.
Hello. Can we talk about things that happened in this millennium, please?
Fine. You know what? It’s very unfair of you to throw all that stuff about 401Ks and all of that into my face, when you know perfectly well that I HAD all that when I was dating DAVE, and you saw how THAT turned out.
OK, well, I’ll admit walking in on your boyfriend in bed with your HR rep can be psychologically scarring. Especially considering it was Amy Jenkins. But you’ll recall that I ALWAYS told you it was never a good idea to date a foreigner. You can never tell when they’re lying.
Hello. Dave was BRITISH.
Yes, but that accent had us fooled. If he’d been from this country, we’d have known right away he was an HR rep—who re monger. But really, Janie, just because things didn’t work out with Dave is no reason to start dating unemployed losers half his age—
Need I remind you that Malcolm is not unemployed? You know he got that big Winter Cal Games contract. That’s the only reason he left. I mean, he had to move up to Canada. For the snow.
And the fact that he was a chronic wake and baker had nothing to do with you ENCOURAGING him to move.
Well, at least he isn’t an anal-retentive control freak like SOME people who happen to be sitting next to me, HOGGING THE ARMREST.
Jane, your bedroom still smells like the inside of a bong.
It is so typical of you to bring this up at a sensitive time like this. After all, YOU’RE the bride. I’m only the bridesmaid. Or witness. Or whatever.
Well, other than the “smart” thing, what do you think of Cal? Do you like him?
I get fan mail from Wondercat readers in SRI LANKA, Holly. SRI LANKANS have heard of Wondercat. But not Mark’s friend Cal.
So? Have you ever read any of his articles on land-mines?
At least I know what a land mine is!!!!!!!!!
Just try to get along with him, will you? Because otherwise it’s going to be a really long trip.
No problem. Now stop writing to me, please, my food is here.
___________________________________________
Benvenuti in
(Welcome to)
Alitalia Inflight Menu
Durante il volo da New York a Roma verra servita la cena e, prima dell’ arrivo, la colazione. I piatta che gusterete sono stati preparati per voi. Buon appetito.
(During the flight from New York to Rome we will be serving dinner and then, prior to arrival, breakfast. The dishes on today’s menu have been specially prepared for you. Enjoy your meal.)
~~Cena~~
Farfalle al pomodoro pachino e foglie di basilico Rolle di tacchinella e broccoletti accompagnata da caponata de melanzane e patate
(Farfalle pasta shapes in a fresh pachino tomato and basil sauce Turkey roll with broccoli stuffing served with aubergine stew and potatoes)
Oppure
(Or)
Filetti de pescatrice con potage de zucchine e insalata Catalana
(Monk fish fillet with green zucchini potage and Catalan style salad)
Assortimento dei fromaggi, accompagnali da composte di frutta e cruditees Caffe “Espresso” e cioccolatini
(Cheese assortment accompanied by crudites and fresh fruit compote Italian “Espresso” coffee and chocolates)
___________________________________________
Travel Diary of Jane Harris
Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine
Jane Harris
Oh my God. The Italian food on the plane is better than the Italian takeout around the corner from my apartment. And I thought their insalata caprese was to die for.
The movie is starting. It’s the new Hugh Jackman! OH MY GOD, I HAVE DIED AND GONE TO HEAVEN! I AM GOING TO EUROPE WITH MY BEST FRIEND AND THEY ARE SHOWING A HUGH JACKMAN MOVIE ON THE PLANE.
If only the Armrest Nazi would MOVE HIS ELBOW.
PDA of Cal Langdon
PDA of Cal Langdon
As usual, the food on this flight is barely edible. And what passes for entertainment in this country these days is truly depressing. The in-flight movie appears to be yet another romantic comedy about a harried young career woman who finds love in a completely unexpected place. My traveling companion is watching it with rapt attention, as she swills from her many, many bottles of water. She is clearly envisioning herself in the role of the harried young career woman.
I think I can say with a certain amount of confidence that she is NOT picturing me in the role of the handsome young leading man. In fact, her marked lack of enthusiasm for me borders almost on the comical. She is taking great pains never to allow her elbow to touch mine on our mutual armrest, as if she fears she might contract some sort of deadly virus from doing so.
And all this, because I happened to remark on her rather remarkable penchant for bottled water.
Oh, and the Crazy Cat thing. Or Wondercat. How was I to know Wondercatis a comic strip, and that she is its creator? I haven’t read a comic since Mark and I were kids, and used to shell out 35 cents a week for the latest edition of Spider-Manat the Big Red Food Mart. I certainly have never made a habit of reading comic strips in the newspaper—not since I turned ten. The newspapers I choose to read don’t have comic strips in them.
Although I don’t suppose it would be politic to admit that, seeing as how the tome we all work for features two pages of comics daily—not to mention horoscopes and Dear Abby. In fact, now that I’ll be living in one place for an extended period of time, I suppose I’ll have to start subscribing. So I have that to look forward to. In addition to so many other joys I’ve missed while I’ve been living out of a bag, such as apartment hunting, buying various electronic devices like a toaster and stereo equipment, and waiting all day for the cable guy who promised to come between ten and two, and then didn’t show.
Ah! Domesticity! How I haven’t missed you!
But I suppose domesticity can have i
ts benefits. Mark is happier than I’ve ever seen him. He seems almost to welcome the noose that awaits his neck at the end of this journey. Although I suppose when the noose looks like Holly…
And she does, I’ll admit, seem to think about topics outside of her nails and yoga and Must See TV, unlike most of the American women I’ve encountered lately. I even had an intelligent conversation with her last week about Gore Vidal.
But I had intelligent conversations with Valerie in the early days, as well.
And as for this friend of Holly’s… I don’t know. I suppose allowances must be made because she’s an artist.
But is cartooning really art? My mother would surely think so.
But Mom thinks the lint she picks from the dryer and hot-glues to clothespins is art. And sadly, she is supported in this belief by the art community of Tucson, where she’s lately set up a studio.
Still, though she may be an artist, Ms. Harris does have very shiny hair. It’s brown, like her eyes.
The tattoo of a cat head—Wondercat, I’m supposing—she wears just above her right ankle is somewhat off-putting, however. And her mouth never seems to stop moving. Now she’s telling the flight attendant how much she enjoyed the male lead’s last film, in which he played some kind of mutant.