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It was a sweltering summer day. My emaciated seatmate wore a hooded sweatshirt topped with a down vest. Woolen socks over corduroy pants were pulled to her knees. She toted a huge duffle which would prove to be crammed with her in-flight essentials.
After she closed the air vent on her overhead panel, she hung a small device around her neck. "It's a back-up air filter," she explained. "Cabin air is poisonous!"
Into the forward seat pocket, she then jimmied a large bottle of water. “I bought this after the security check. You never know where airlines get their water.” During seatbelt instructions, she positioned a rigid chiropractic backrest “especially moulded for me.”
The still-bulging duffle went onto the empty seat between us until she plopped into her own. While the plane taxied, she dug out a pillow, a fleece to tuck around her legs, and a parka, which she drew to her chin like a comforter. Still she shivered, and blowing on her hands to warm them, she complained, “This compartment is freezing!”
I was wearing a sleeveless blouse and sandals! My panel vent could not blow enough air to cool me that stifling day. Obviously something was terribly wrong with my young seatmate. Was the poor thing flying to some last-ditch cure? Was she going home to die? I resolved to be her flight guardian. I wanted to give her a hug but was afraid I’d pass on some killer bug. Exhausted, she slumbered while I pondered life’s cruelties.
When the peanuts were passed, she roused slightly to offer hers to me, but it was my munching that brought her to life. Rummaging through her duffle again, she produced a collection of zip-locked and lidded containers. Using an alcohol-dampened cloth, she swabbed her face and hands before she opened a container of lettuce leaves. At first she carefully folded these to bite-size and slowly masticated them to liquid. Those juices seemed to spark greater hunger, however, and her eating gained momentum. Soon she could hardly wad the lettuce into her mouth fast enough. Soy cheese cubes were clawed from another zip-lock, and she popped them between famished spoonings of pallid couscous. When the edge was finally off her hunger, she nibbled on raw almonds and dried cranberries between long swigs of bottled spring water.
Apparently warmed, she then swept off her hood and stuffed her vest, coat and fleece back into her duffle. She had also gained sufficient energy and concentration to crack her new book. “This has food remedies for almost everything!” she enthused.
That’s when it hit me. In overzealous pursuit of wellness, this young woman was making herself sick!
“Have you found a food to keep you warm in the summer?” I inquired.
“Yes, I’ll add crystallized ginger to my diet — without the usual sugar coating, of course.”
“Of course,” I nodded while I pondered my sudden craving for a steak, medium rare with a side of onion rings.
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