Wednesday, September 20, 2000

Charlotte Rae in the forward cabin

I have never dreamed about surviving a plane crash before, ergo I have never dreamed about surviving a plane crash a mere 24 hours before I am scheduled to actually board an airplane. Perhaps you can understand, then, why I was a bit shaken when I awoke this morning, having overslept by one hour and with the vague memory of charred wreckage and sliding down a rubber raft-like escape thingy still ricocheting around my brain.

As I recalled more details of the dream, however, my anxiety subsided, replaced by puzzled bemusement, to wit: Apparently, although a passenger on this flight, I was nonetheless pressed into service as a first-class flight attendant. I managed to fumble my way through the routine, ably assisted by the rest of the cheerful crew, comprising Charlotte Rae and Sandy Duncan. One of the passengers, a curt young African American woman, ordered from me a half-pound of angel hair pasta and a Coca-Cola and, when I returned to the galley to get it, I discovered not pre-packaged entrees but a sumptuous buffet, stocked with everything except pasta and Coke. Fortunately, before I had to return and break the unpleasant news to the unpleasant passenger, the plane apparently crashed, injuring no one but somehow managing to rip away the entire side of the cabin. Only when I was preparing to inelegantly deplane did I realize that I was naked, although how long I had been so, I couldn't say. I gathered up my clothes and, as I jumped onto the slide, heard Charlotte Rae cheerily call, "Buh-bye!"

So now I'm not sure which should concern me more, getting on a plane tomorrow or the fact that Lance Arthur and I seem to have dreamed of Charlotte Rae on the same night.