Yesterday my plane had to make an emergency landing in Pittsburgh. After making some repairs, the pilot and mechanics spun up the engine to test the newly installed parts. The engine almost immediately caught fire and was shut down. Children cried, businessmen anxiously scrolled their Blackberrys, and I retreated behind the learned facade of the latest New Yorker.

After one hour, they announced that we would have stay in Pittsburgh for the night and rebook on flights for the following morning. The prospect of spending a night in Pittsburgh sent the hordes of uppity white people on my plane into a cannibalizing frenzy. A dumb, portly woman broke down in tears at the prospect of not reaching her Mary Kay conference. Two pregnant women squared off against an Asian couple struggling to comprehend their situation and the obscenities being hurled at them. At this moment, when the once-docile travelers were poised to rip each others faces off, I saw this advertisement:

killer boots man

killer boots man

My heart sank even lower. I tried to do the math and frantically scribbled down Benjamin Bratt’s personal and professional milestones as hell erupted all around me:

-Pushed coke on a pregnant Catherine Zeta-Jones.

-Dated Julia Roberts for 3 years. She dumped him for a cameraman.

-Starred in the hit military drama E-Ring on CBS.

-Played minor character in Demolition Man

I envisioned crescendoing commercials with quotes from media critics at Phoenix network affiliates saying things like “Bratt UNLEASHED,” and “This IS drama.” Why can’t I Love Money play on every channel? Why am I alive?


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