I have a love-hate relationship with flying. I love the
feeling of taking off, building to the exuberant burst of speed that allows the
plane to become airborne. I love looking out the window and seeing the clouds and
landscape pass by below. I love the surreal experience of boarding the plane
one evening and waking up the next morning in a different country. I hate all
of the rituals that have grown up around the act of flying. I hate the long
security lines and the gratuitous inspection of our toilet articles, shoes,
laptops, and bodies. I hate being herded to the gates, like animals going to
the slaughterhouse. Most of all I hate the thought that my life is suspended in
a piece of machinery manufactured, maintained, and piloted by fallible human
beings.
I’ve had a few close calls while flying, most notably the
time when one of the engines caught on fire in full view of myself and a few other passengers while flying from
Sydney to Melbourne. Of course the public announcement to the passengers simply
said that there was a “small mechanical problem” and that we would be going
back to Sydney even though we were two-thirds of the way to Melbourne. Turned
out the repair crew were in Sydney, so forget about passengers’ safety and
convenience.
One never quite knows how close a call is, since the public
announcements typically dissemble, omit information, or actually lie. However,
on my last trip we had an unsettling experience that made me think of the
question in today’s title. Here’s an excerpt from my notes:
Tuesday, March 5: When traveling I always like to enhance my
sniffing experience by spending time in the duty-free shops at all of the
airports I pass through, and usually end up covering myself with a psychedelic
mix of scents that I’m sure must be a joy to the passengers on the next flight.
I’ve almost suffocated myself a few times. I’m looking forward to seeing
whether the duty-free shops offer anything that I’ve never tried. Last time
they were a disappointment because it was just all the same old stuff, and I
concluded that I was getting jaded.
The Seattle duty-free shop was no exception. It had the
usual array of mid- to upscale mass-market fragrances along with some celebrity
scents. It’s getting harder and harder to find something new in the duty-free
shops, which seem to stick to a standard, tried-and-true inventory. However, I
did find two that I’d never tried, Lady Gaga’s Fame, and Chanel No. 19 Poudre.
Well, only Lady Gaga was new given that No. 19 Poudre is technically a flanker,
but it was the best I could do. I sprayed one on each wrist and settled in for
the flight to Chicago where we would change to a Lufthansa flight to Munich.
Here are my notes from the plane:
Fame isn’t bad at all! It’s a conventional fruity-floral
mass-market scent, but it’s a nice one. The big surprise is that I like it
better than the Chanel, which starts out with an odd, plastic note that reminds
me of stinkbugs and lasts for over an hour. No. 19 Poudre eventually loses the plastic-stinkbug
notes, ending up as a green, non-sweet, grassy, quasi-chypre type scent with a
hint of powder, but not much powder. It’s pleasant, and actually goes well with Fame. The
two complement each other nicely. After the initial fruity-floral blast, Fame
turns out to be a really nice, spicy-fruity, soft, sexy, mash-up between a
standard fruity-floral and a good oriental. (Note added later: Both of them
have moderate sillage and last over 12 hours).
As we approached Chicago, we learned that it was snowing
there. The plane circled for a good while, and as we neared the ground, it
became clear that it was not just snowing, Chicago was having a blizzard.
Flying close to the tops of buildings, streets, freeways, and lights, it was as
if everything was nearly obscured by a thick layer of cotton. Then, just at the
moment when the plane was about to touch down on the runway, it jerked around
to the side and roared back up into the air, laboring to get airborne again. I
have no idea what really happened, but we were told that the plane was
“re-directed to another runway that was in better condition”. It seemed like a
near wipe-out to me. After circling for another 45 minutes, we finally landed
successfully. Michael observed that landing on several inches of snow makes for
a nice, soft landing, if done properly.
While the near-disaster was happening, I remember smelling
Lady Gaga Fame and thinking to myself that if we all died in a plane crash, I
would be wearing a celebrity perfume. I also remember thinking that I could do
a lot worse. Not that it would matter in the end, but it did give new meaning
to the expression, “wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a celebrity scent” and lent
a certain amount of humor to the situation.
[Clouds and blizzard photos adapted from Wikimedia. Perfume pics adapted from internet sources]
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