Flying southward to meet The Councilman, I presented myself silently with the “Smilin Andy Bean, Best Dressed Man in the Air” award for the second time in as many flights. Must my fellow Florida-bound passengers always litter my vision with khaki shorts and floral prints? Am I the only air-traveller who finds the dignity of a three-piece suit well worth the ironing and occassional discomfort? And leather-skinned woman of seat 13B, have you never seen a Derby hat atop a young man before? Might you unglue your gaze from my noggin? Or shall I do you the service? Stewardess, something fermented, please! I feel a surge of anger-stuffs arising.
Alas, the lot of a travelling gentlemen is often trying. But a moistened pallette quickly restored my humility and turned my thoughts back to the goodness of man. Afterall, I reminded myself, it is often the khaki-shorted sort who throws you his dollar. Quite right! Stewardess, a Michelob Ultra for the lady in 13B, with my compliments!
Thus, it was with a smile on my face and cheer in my heart that I touched down in Ft. Liquordale, eager for reunion with my gentlemen partner. I would lie to you, friend, were I to deny having envisioned a more colorful greeting; with The Councilman in his Tuesday best, bearing a “Welcome Back, Andy Bean!” placard, and perhaps singing a song of salutation. But, an empty-handed Councilman in peasant clothes beats no Councilman at all. We shook hands, I offered a kind-hearted witticism about leather-skinned womens in khaki shorts, he chuckled knowingly, and we proceeded northward.
-S. A. Bean