One morning a couple of weeks ago, before we left on a trip, Dearly Beloved went out to do a quick fix on a broken sprinkler head we’d noticed. One repair unearthed another problem and he spent the day crawling behind the shrubbery, digging beneath the pine needles. In the process he repaired about 30 feet of squirrel-chewed lines, broken couplings, and missing sprinkler heads, all of which necessitated several trips to the hardware store. (His theory that one can learn to fix things by simply staring at them long enough seems to hold water.)
When DB came back inside 8 1/2 hours later, it was obvious that we weren’t going anywhere. His clothes were filthy and he was dripping wet. Since he didn’t want to walk through the house leaving a trail, he entered through the laundry room and stripped there. He walked nonchalantly through the sunroom and what passed before me was a buck-nekkid man whose deeply tanned legs and arms emphasized the Casper-like whiteness of his backside. He was wearing nothing but a pair of navy felt bedroom slippers he’d found in the laundry room, along with a pink baseball camp I’d left on the dryer.
Obviously, he was heading back to our bathroom to shower. BUT… after seeing this photo a couple of days ago, I realize that had DB reached in the laundry basket and grabbed some of my undies, he could have been dressed to travel without me, provided he flew on US Airways.
In June, a college football player who wore his pants down to his nethers was removed from a plane after the pilot made a citizen’s arrest. And don’t forget “Tammy in the Wheelchair,” the 52-year-old woman who arrived at the security checkpoint wearing black undies and a white poodle. Also, Southwest Airlines removed a skimpily clad passenger until she made adjustments to cover more skin a few years ago.
What are these people thinking?
All of this has become a discussion over race and gender, since the 62-year-old white male cross dresser was the only one who breezed on without any official challenge. The football player was black, the women were white… and blonde.
Yeah, I see a double standard. There isn’t even a masculine form of “slut”.
But back to the official dress code policy, which the airline says it doesn’t have.
When you board a plane, you may have concerns about air quality, screaming babies, deranged passengers, malcontent airline attendants, testy pilots, terrorists. Add shared surfaces to that….
According to this article in the NY Times, a 2007 testing by a University of Arizona environmental biologist, found four out of five tray tables bore the Staphylococcus superbug, MRSA. Most of the bathrooms had E. coli bacteria. Cold and flu viruses survive up to 72 hours on plastic surfaces. The icky noroviruses which cause serious gastroenteritis can live on surfaces for a month. We don’t need BBC (bare butt contamination) to add to the list.
Take a look at that upholstered seat on which you’re about to park yourself. Those skid mark stains could be feces, urine, food, or some other stain we don’t even want to imagine. It’s enough to creep one out, even wearing a hazmat suit.
To be brief–not that we want you to be–here is the dress code policy:
(If you do not know what that means, ask your congressman.)
One entrepreneur has even launched a counterattack with these., but with the extra charges in place for carry-ons, this seems an expensive and inconvenient option, even though it sure looks reassuring.
Perhaps airlines could issue coveralls for passengers who didn’t cover enough to lessen the ick factor.
DB and I prefer to drive on our trips… fully clothed and dignity intact. To paraphrase Star Trek, there is a certain comfort to sitting where no butt has gone before.
Besides, we get the whole can of Diet Coke.