World Traveler

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Remember me? We sat next to each other on a flight from John Wayne Airport to Oklahoma City. You asked me what I do for a living. When I told you I'm a psychologist, you confessed your fear of flying. I asked, "What do you do for it?" You said you drink. And then you proceeded to prove it. You drank. A lot. And then you talked . . . and talked a whole lot more. Even though I purposely put on my headphones and buried my head in my work, every few minutes you would literally tap—or rather hit —me on the shoulder to share some new insight. One thing you shared was your firm conviction that Al Gore was "destined" (that's the word you used) to win the presidency so that Joe Lieberman could become VP. This, somehow, would trigger the "End Times" because we would have a Jew in a high office. Later, you told me that you, too, once wanted to be psychologist just like me but are rather happy in your current job, the "best you've ever had" because "it's inside, and when it's cold, they turn on the heat. And when it's hot, they turn on the air conditioner." We appear to live in a country that consists of many worlds.

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