Slow Learner

My first trip to Europe happened when I was just a wee lad. I went to Sweden to visit my father's relatives and to witness the great spectacle that was Esto 80. I had been to Esto 76 but was too young to remember anything except that it was kind of boring. This Esto 80 thing was going to be a little different. This time I was going to Stockholm, Sweden instead of Baltimore, Maryland.

The travel bug had bitten me ever since our family took a trip to exotic Disney World when I was four years old. Those flying Dumbo elephants helped me to realize that the world was full of unexpected pleasures waiting to be discovered. I couldn't wait to get on a real plane and not just a flying elephant that went in circles.

So, I got on Northwest Orient flight somethingorother on a sunny Saturday morning in July of 1980 and was as excited as a tourist in Times Square. Here we were - me, my parents and my sister, Minerva - off to exotic Sweden! (I am not sure if I have used "Minerva" as my youngest sister's alias before, but anyway, it's the youngest one - still much older than me.) I had met several of my Swedish-Estonian relatives a couple of years before when they came to New York to discover my family. They were all a little nutty, so we all got along very excellently. I remember my cousin Lailai had a penny rocket shot up her dress on the fourth of July and she just seemed to enjoy the heck out of that. That was cool.

So, I was very excited about this trip, yada yada yada. I get on the plane and find that the seats are broken into groups of two or three. Two on the left, three in the middle and two on the right. So, naturally this was going to cause me some amount of stress because my mother would probably have to sit next to my father and I would be stuck with Minerva.
There was some discussion about me sitting with my father but I would hear none of it because my father was a chronic nose wiper/picker and I just couldn't sit through 8 hours of that. This was my first intercontinental flight for Christmas sake! It had to be at least somewhat pleasant! So, I sat next to Minerva who was expectedly quiet. Minerva had lived in France the year before. She was an exchange student and to me seemed very worldy so I spent most of the first two hours of the flight asking her questions about airplanes: the food, the takeoff, how such a heavy thing got off the ground, etc. She didn't know the answers, but that was fine. I just liked hearing myself ask the questions. The answers were (and usually still are) secondary.

So, the flight is going fine except for the excruciating pain I feel in my ears. I thought my head was going to explode for the first twenty minutes of the flight. Then that kind of went away and I yaked at Minerva for however long until dinner was served.

During our gourmet in-flight meal of crap-covered feaux chicken with grease-engorged rice substitute and "caviar", Minerva got some of the "caviar" stuff on her hands and had to use up the toilet-tissue style napkin to wipe it off. Then she had no napkin and she looked at me and asked, "E, do you have an extra napkin?".

I knew I didn't have one. But for some reason, I started feeling the sides of my legs and digging into the crevices of the seat to find one. I looked under the food tray, between the plastic dishes dividing the "caviar" and the chicken stuff from the chocolate-mangoesqu cake-like thing and still I found no "extra" napkin.

I felt awful. Minerva was very sweet and deserved an extra napkin but I couldn't provide it.

"No. I don't have one", I finally answered.

Poor Minerva looked so disappointed. I started to realize then that when she said "Do you have an extra" she really meant, "give me yours because you're a little boy and you don't really care if you have a napkin or not". I guess Minerva didn't understand exactly who I was and that this was my first real airplane ride and that that napkin was MY FIRST AIRPLANE NAPKIN and I had every intention of using it to wipe the grease from MY CHICKEN STUFF off my mouth.

I did feel for her though. I thought I might go to the loo and bring back Minerva some toilet paper. I didn't have to go, but it would be an adventure, I thought. I'd like to see how the bathroom works in a plane and see if the pee and poop really fly out of a trap door when you flush. (That's how I'd imagined it worked anyway.)

So, off I went to the bathroom. I didn't have to wait on line as it was still dinner time and most people were still eating. I entered the tiny restroom, closed the accordian door and studied the handle. The light was not on and I was apparently doing something wrong. After a few seconds, I had it figured out, the lights came on, I turned around, did my business and turned to the sink to wash my hands. My hands were wet and I needed a towel to dry them. Guess what? They had a whole paper towel dispenser right there in the loo! I was impressed. But I said to myself, "this paper towel is kind of dry and hard. It's not good for Minerva. She needs to wipe her mouth and this will be too rough." Just was I was thinking that my right eye caught sight of the most amazing thing I had ever seen. It was like God Himself had been listening to my thoughts and was answering my prayers tenfold!

"EJ. I knoweth that it is thy intention to bring forth to thine sister - fruit of thine mother's womb, flesh of your flesh - a napkin so that she may wipe the muck from her brow and feel the glory of a clean face!"

Yes, God, I thought. That's exactly what I want to do.

There in front of me, just above eye level, was a great dispenser with an embossed label which read, "SANITARY NAPKINS".

"Wow", I thought, "these aren't just regular napkins, they're extra clean! Minerva will love these!"

So, I yanked on the plastic covered napkins sticking out of the bottom of the dispenser and took a long, hard look at it.

"That's amazing! It's a whole package of napkins! Minerva can wipe her face till the cows come home!"

So, I took the napkins in hand and left the restroom. I was so proud of my discovery and so sure that Minerva was going to be completely exstatic when she saw this that I held the napkin package up high while walking down the aisle through the plane back to my seat.

I got back in my seat and looked over at Minerva who was still eating and seemed really out of sorts due to her lack of a napkin. I looked at her with a great expression of self-satisfaction and handed her the package and said, "I got you some napkins from the bathroom. They had whole packages in there!"

Minerva then turned a bright red, clenched her lips together and snatched the package of napkins out of my hand, opened her purse and stuffed them inside.
She then started stuffing her food into her mouth, emptied all the little plastic dividers and didn't speak to me for the rest of the ride.

I knew I had done something wrong. But I didn't know what it was until maybe eight years later when I was in Australia for another Esto festival and Minerva corrected my mistake when I asked the server in a Melbourne Pizza Hut for a "napkin" and she gave me the dirtiest look.

"Oh! I get it now."