Godwatching

“Who am I seeking in this waste?”

After eight hours, three airplanes, and four airports, I have come to the conclusion that the Gods do not travel during the holidays. Which makes a kind of sense, I suppose.

Everywhere, all I see are mortals . . . Moping their way from one place to another.

I’m striding down a terminal in Denver when it occurs to me that perhaps the old poker aphorism of “If you look around the table and can’t tell who the sucker is, well…” applies.

But maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Always the same story: Mortals looking for Gods, Gods looking for mortals.

I’ve been looking and the best I can report are the two gay flight attendants that comped me on my whiskies and soda . . . but that’s only me trying to reward their kindness, and I don’t think that kindness rates you higher than demigod (and that’s on a good day).

But if it did, the flight attendants would get an upgrade. As would the two friends who got me to California yesterday: The one who drove me to the airport and didn’t panic when their car broke down when we were nearly there, and the one who dropped everything when I called and ran over to pick us up so I could make my plane.

Free rides, roadside rescues, and complimentary whiskey.

Not such a bad way to travel, I suppose.

But I still wish there had been more Gods.

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In California now. Watch this space…