On one of my latest flights across the ocean I was sitting next to a young girl who immediately won me over with her green eyes and blonde pigtails. Her mother, also blonde and green-eyed, was sunk in Brigitte, a sort of German cross between Martha Stewart Living, Cosmopolitan, and the presumption that the world is one big fluffy ball full of cashmere scarves, diets that work, and men who could understand you if they just tried a bit harder. I forgave her because her daughter was such a pretty kid in a serious, kind of strict, almost aggressive way – a miniature mixture of Susan Sontag, Jessica Valenti and Paris Hilton's Chihuahua, Tinkerbell.
"What's your name?" I asked her after take-off, eager to make some kiddie small talk.
The girl gave me a weird look as if checking my clothes to see if I was worth an answer. She smirked, whispered "Johann Sebastian Bach," and then with a swift movement stole a pack of gum out of her mother's Gucci purse.
I burst out laughing and said, with one of my famous conspiratorial grins, "Glad to meet you at last Johann, I am Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart!"
Johann Sebastian gave me the finger.
I was petrified with shock. Is a child allowed to be allowed to do that? I asked myself and shook my head. At this, the girl stuffed five sticks of gum into her mouth all at once, threw the empty pack in my lap, and let out a heartbreaking scream. The mother closed her magazine and looked at her daughter, who then pointed at me.
Mother: "What did the evil, evil man do to you?"
Daughter (mouth full of gum): "The evil man gave me gum. He said I have to chew it all at once. And he said his name is Mozart and he wants to make music with me, waaaah!"
"You what?!" The mother turned to me, her green eyes flashing as the girl spat the huge wad of gum into her hand.
Now, what can you do in a situation like this? The mother is convinced her blonde angel doesn't even know what lying is, and worse, there is an empty pack of gum in my lap. In addition, "wants to make music with me" sounds pretty damn unsettling.
Continues in issue 19. Order now.
Translated by Janet Hendrikson and the author
