Anatomy of a Column
eggy Noonan had just finished being inappropriately patted down and walked through the X-ray thing that seems to function as a mammogram, with her arms up straight, at Reagan National airport.
“I didn’t really want a freelance mammogram, and I’m not sure it’s right that you give me one,” she whispered to the TSA prison-matron. They took her First Aid Kit away (the amusing name she had given her hip flask, Christofle, so chic, so elegant) telling her it was too big, and held more than was allowed by law. She was brusquely told to sit down “over there.”
Noonan padded over to a bank of chairs in her stocking feet and proceeded to slip on her well-worn Weejan loafers. It was yet another grim trip into the gaping maw that had become airline travel. “Some things should not be commodities,” she noted. Sitting next to her was an elderly gentleman wearing a full Cleveland: plaid polyester pants, white belt and shoes, and a short-sleeved blouse of dubious quality and heritage.
Her little bird-like hands fluttered up to her ever present pearl necklace (so classic, so comforting in a rough storm of life) that the greatest president of the last half of the last century, maybe the greatest president ever, Ronald Wilson Reagan, had given to her.
Cleveland leered at her, his rheumy blue eyes dully sparkling, “What’cha in for, sweetheart?” He looked amused as if he might put one of his knobby hands on her knee.
“I have to tell you that it’s not polite to block my path and attempt to force a conversation.”
After the requisite lecture about bringing on liquids, the TSA agent told her she could empty the flask and then bring it on board. They were not amused when she asked for ice.
“No one has any sense of proportion anymore, now that we are a service economy, forced to interact with each other, every day, in person and by phone and email. And it makes us all a little mad.”
She stumbled onto the plane, so garish and full of the unwashed masses yearning to breath free, and struggled to get her Louis Vuitton into the overhead bin. The nice young steward came over to help her. She handed him her bag, sat down in her seat and fiddled with the air nozzle.
“I’m sorry, lady, I’m checking this bag in. It’s too big and too heavy to safely stow overhead.”
“I’m not paying you to be rude to me,” she snapped back, reading the card about what to do in an emergency, and noting the location of the evacuation slides.
We Pay Them to be Rude to Us, by Peggy Noonan
UPDATE: – We have photographic proof that Peggington Noonington was on that flight:
All the illustrations are courtesy of DistributorCapNY – my very good friend and talented artist!
UPDATE 2: Our good friend and Scissorhead, LibHomo, has an excellent reaction to Nooner’s usual dithering.
Dear Peggy Noonan,
Your vagina called. Said you’re a dumb cunt.
LikeLike
When I saw the link to Piggy’s latest diatribe, I knew you would skewer it. Bravo!
LikeLike
Green balloons!
LikeLike
I’m 99.9% sure if Nooner was in the above situation, the phrase, “Do you know who I am?” would have been uttered a few times.
LikeLike
just like the Jet Blue flight attendant, Peggy’s stories seem to change time and time again
LikeLike
Now double extra wonderful with the pictures!!!
LikeLike
Willa – For a moment, I thought you said double-extra wide… Which also works.
Rgds,
TG
LikeLike
You got that one right, s. douglas. And grs, oh I’m sure she said it many times.
LikeLike
Well done, TG and D’Cap…great stuff…Thanks!
LikeLike
Tengrain,
This rises to and passes the level of Judy Agnew’s Diary from The National Lampoon of thirty-five years ago. Good job, and extremely well done!
LikeLike
Ah, Judy Agnew’s Diary. Good stuff.
Miss Peggy probably hasn’t been manhandled this much since the Jeff Greenfield days.
LikeLike
I don’t recall the National Lampoon clearly — the way I do Spy Magazine. I think of the movies more than the magazine when I think about the Lampoon. Except for the famous dog cover, I really don’t remember much about it.
Maybe my Noonan stuff is an homage, and I didn’t know it?
Anyway, I tried to Google it, and did not get any hits. If anyone has a link, put it in the comments. I’d like to see what it is about.
Regards,
Tengrain
LikeLike
Quite a few celebrities (so to speak) on that plane. Snakes on a Plane?
LikeLike
Thanks for the link. Noonan got some criticism on Dandelion Salad for another column where she stoked popular anger without acknowledging her role in it.
LikeLike