Let’s face it. Things have been pretty disturbing of late. There was the awfulness of the Columbia horror. We have been on the precipice of war for some time now, and it seems as though each day brings us millimeters closer to the free fall. Some of us have been wondering about Townshend’s ISP, and whether he’s been flung from the system at a velocity faster than a windmill move. Phil Spector has signed on part of the O.J. defense team. Things are disturbing. But there is a ray of, er, hope. Thanks to Courtney Love.
Yes, Courtney, who appeared to have sold out to the glamour of Hollywood. It seemed as though all we’d get from her would be some silly post-Oscar antics. But no, she’s still rocking. Or, as Paul Moore, director of corporate affairs for Virgin Atlantic, is quoted as saying, “She was verbally abusive toward our cabin crew and disruptive.” Now we’re talking. Arrested. OK. There she was on a flight from LA to London. A trip that takes approximately, oh, eight or nine light years. She was on her way to a benefit concert with Sir Elton John and Kevin Spacey, a man who really ought not sing Beatle tunes anywhere outside the confines of his shower and even then if there is no one within shouting range. Undoubtedly, something like that really puts a lot of pressure on a person. Especially if all of the movies on the personal entertainment system suck.
Another unidentified person in the AP report of Love’s arrest (stop, in the name of Love) noted that she was “being generally disruptive, using abusive language and refusing to sit down and put her belt on.” Girl’s gotta be free. And what do you expect from a celebrity? Simple in-seat participation in those stretching/exercise videos that are typically shown on long-haul flights? While there is no report on what fare basis she was traveling on, chances are it was at least Virgin Upper Class. As is well known by people who don’t have the opportunity to fly anything other than steerage (a.k.a., in virtually any part of a plane that’s not separated by a simple piece of dangling cloth that somehow radiates the power of one of those force fields on Star Trek: Next Generation), there are free beverages distributed in those parts of the airplane. Which is not to imply that Love started shot gunning cans of O’Doul’s or whatnot. Odds are just as good that her entertainment system was locked on Dana Carvey’s Master of Disguise. And who’d want to sit through that?
Nowadays, traveling by air is analogous to time spent in the chair of an endodonist, but not quite as comfortable. What’s puzzling is why the other 200 passengers didn’t pull a Richard Reeves maneuver on Love.