Orville and Wilbur, Where Are You?

Death and taxes have long ranked in the top 10 items to worry about since, according to the cliche, they're sure things. In recent years we've added terrorism to the list. Unemployment. Foreclosure. Cholesterol. The safety of the Swine Flu vaccine. The paltry state of my Social Security after working my entire freakin' life. Finding the car keys. Remembering where the car actually is once I find the keys. General physical decrepitude.

While I don't want to speak for all of us, I think it's safe to say that we're an utterly stressed out society. Meditate till you reach Nirvana -- I'm all for that, but when you come back to the real world you're still out of milk with no clean undies.

Now add pilot fatigue to the list. We pay for the ticket, the checked bag, the pillow, the movie and questionable food. In exchange, the airline owes us a well-rested pilot who isn't absorbed by a Sudoku puzzle when he should be lowering the landing gear.

Aviation experts say the cockpit is so highly computerized that there's little for the pilot to do. Maybe so, but what about glitches? Computers are famous for glitches and glitches need to be overridden by a human being. When the voice on the PA says, "welcome aboard, this is your captain speaking" I sincerely want that voice coming from a real live attentive, seasoned professional.

Preferably one who doesn't do Sudoku.

This is National News?

I always wanted to be a journalist when I grew up. I majored in it and worked on a newspaper for a while before I was diverted into radio production and then advertising copy writing. If I had stuck with it perhaps I'd be polishing a Pulitzer. But more than likely, I'd be assigned one of the biggest non-events in recent memory -- the balloon boy.

Even if the kid had been inside, did it warrant hours of coverage, followed by hours, ad nauseum (literally on the Today Show), of interviews with the family? The whole caper is more Letterman than CNN. The reddish tint on your TV is the media's collective embarrassment.

It must have been a really slow news day. John and Kate took a day off from bickering. No kittens were trapped on a ledge anywhere in America.

I heard Brian Williams say on NPR how thankful he was to have been on vacation when this non-story broke. Good timing, Bri.

The Dating Game --- Still

Is dating more difficult when you're older? You'd think it would be easier since we all carry more baggage on the subject than an LAX skycap.

I've given up dating -- and not just for Lent, but my friend is totally focused -- perhaps even borderline rabid -- on having a date for New Year's Eve this year. After trying the clubs where she felt like the Mom, she's taking the more anonymous route and checking the personal sites.

Unfortunately, on the Internet it's easy to stretch the truth -- farther than Pavarotti's leotard in some cases. So, based on my past experience, I compiled a Dating Dictionary to help her decipher the bios and sort out the dreamboats from the dinghies.

The caveat, of course, is that at our age meeting men is a lot like shopping at Safeway after midnight. Everything is either previously squeezed, picked over or out of stock.

Here are some entries:

- Tom Sellick look-alike: an aloha shirt for every occasion
- make a woman feel needed: bring cash
- great sense of humor: you'll love his Curly imitation
- good conversation: serious "I" problems
- spiritually evolved: been in three cults
- infectious smile: that's not all that's contagious
- sensitive: he cried when Brett Favre retired
- well-read: knows the Hardy Boy stories by heart
- sexy foreign accent: needs a Green Card
- Mediterranean style: think Zorba

My fingers are crossed, my friend. If Mr. Right isn't on line, I'm always free for New Year's Eve.

Growling at Mother Theresa

Growling at Mother Theresa -- that's what I've felt like doing for the past few weeks. It's as though PMS had come back to taunt me.

I couldn't figure out why snapping at innocent barristas over a sprinkle of cinnamon had become my habit -- until I read the the information sheet that came with my new medication. Possible side effects: irritability.

Irritability? Irritability I can handle. This was like channeling Leona Helmsley and Dick Cheney simultaneously. Downright mean! Hoping to change my mood, I bought a parakeet -- and named it Attila.

Possible side effect, number two: increased appetite and bloating. You'd be cranky too if you were holding more water than Hoover Dam. The only thing that fit this week were my earrings.

I justified eating an entire baguette at one sitting by telling myself that French people do it all the time -- well, a French family -- of 5.

So for the sake of world peace, I have retired to my apartment with sufficient quantities of highly processed foods and some trashy novels. I promise not to come out until I can say 5 positive things about Mother Theresa.

Hurray for the Pre-Travel Contract

Guidebooks 101 feature useful travel information. Whether you like Frommer, Steves or Lonely Planet, they thoroughly cover where to go, when to be there, what to see, how to get around.

What's missing is WHO to go with.

New editions should include a compatibility test to make sure your travelling companion is indeed companionable. Friends who chat well over coffee or share your book group thoughts on "House of Mirth" might not hold up for an entire week on the road.

Many couples sign pre-nuptial agreements. Why not a pre-travel contract? Here are a few things I would include in mine:

- I understand that I am going to a foreign country (if applicable) and that the customs, food, laws of the road and language will undoubtedly be, well, foreign. This doesn't give me license to criticize it just because it's different "than America".

- I agree to not actively seek out American companions. We are abroad to experience a different culture. If we wanted to spend two weeks with Americans, we would have gone to Philadelphia.

- I am aware that most people in this country are not hearing impaired. If I am not understood, raising my voice to a level only dogs can hear will not improve the conversation.

- I understand that of course I will bring back souvenirs but I will not spend hours shopping for them and if, indeed, I buy these aforementioned souvenirs I and I alone am responsible for schlepping them.

Sign here, please.