Sounds of laughter shades of life
are ringing through my open ears
exciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which
shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe....

"ACROSS THE UNIVERSE", bEATLEs.

I met John last year, on a flight from Boston to Chicago. I had to see my Aunt Augustinia in Aurora to help her through the death of her old dog Herbert, and possibly, if she was willing, to help her pick out a new puppy.

It was around 1 am and I was drinking heavily due to my fear of flying. Not the Erica Jong variety, the real fear of plummeting 600 miles an hour through the sky to a painful dismemberment.  I was embarrassed about using the rear restroom so much (this lady kept nodding everytime I staggered by her seat, as if we shared  a secret…why the hell couldn’t she fall asleep?) so I ventured forward, into unknown territory.

I located the restroom and took my relief. The longest pee in the world, it seemed. As I was peeing, I rolled my eyes at myself for being such a dipsomaniacal sissy .  I tried to think of something positive, like getting dear old Augustinia another canine, though I was sure gonna try to talk her into getting a feline. She was 84, poor dear.

Making my way back to my seat & maybe some well-deserved sleep (either for being such a good nephew or proficient drunkard), I noticed an old fellow in a caftan reading one of the Harry Potter books, I don’t know which one, how the hell would I? My books on the plane were Hegel’s “Philosophy of Right”, with a backup of Harold Bloom’s latest weird Gnostic stuff. Weird old guy, Harold. Predicting a theocracy in America in the 21^st century.

A lilty kind of endearingly vicious low whispery damn Brit voice assaulted my ear.

“Sir, do you have the sh-edule of this flight on hand?” he said, behind round aquamarine spectacles like all the old hippies were wearing.

I could feel the urine accumulating in my bladder yet again, just a bit, but enough to get me worried that I would have to make another bathroom run in a half hour or so, depending on whether I could trick myself into falling asleep once I got back to Hegel. I got irritated. It goes back a long way, to college, when I knew this English twit who was always making fun of us Americans. I hated that guy because he actually made me defend this damn country, which I hated back then, because this foxy redheaded poetess taught me about the real story behind the nexus of Reaganomics and Iran Contra and Roger Whittaker and the Gnostic heresy (damn Gnostics again!) and other stuff, I cannot remember it all. I do remember lying naked in bed reading Neruda to her, though…

“No, but I got a sked-dule, if that’s what you are trying to say,” I spat at John Lennon.

“May I see it?”

“Sure,” I said, feeling guilty. This guy looked scared behind all that jiveass English neo-Mod aura he tried to exude. My schedule was all crumpled up in my back pocket, next to my nicotine gum and the entreating  letter from that fat old Augustinia, damn her for making me fly.

He looked at it for about a minute, as I felt the pee sloshing into the old rubber .Then I recognized him.

“Fuck,  you’re John Lennon, “ I spurted.

“And you appear to be a hybrid of Bob Zimmerman and Ashton Kutcher,” he said, not unkindly.

“Gosh, thank you,” I continued to spurt.

“For which part?”

“Oh, both, or …to be compared to such a comedic genius!” I managed.

“Kutcher or Dylan?”

“Neither! Rather, the ideal of their hybridization!”

“Good boy, “ he said, and wiped those iconic eyes after removing his specs.

He handed the schedule back,and I cursed myself for the Sked-dule comment, but then rethought  the whole thing and came up with a pat on the back for myself for being so prototypically boorish and yet, later in the conversation,  erudite & arcane . Maybe.

“Hush hush, about seeing me,” he warned. Then shut his eyes.

“Absolutely. Ain’t got no one to tell, man.”

“Sorry for that. Also glad to hear. Good night.”

When I got back to my seat I found that the damn bratty kid in the seat in front of me was half awake again , and intent on making faces at me for the rest of the flight. Shit. And I had to pee again…