I have a strange weakness for a subgenre of SciFi movies about technology involving the human brain — Brainstorm (best known for being Natalie Wood’s last film) and, even more so, Strange Days, which persuaded me that Angela Bassett should be an action hero. In both films, inventions allow people to feel what someone else has experienced. Inevitably, the technology is abused to the point where some people fry their brains. In Brainstorm, for example, one man plays a tape that allows him to experience someone else’s threesome over and over and over again, until his brain is a quivering blob of jelly.
That’s why I don’t dwell on good reviews. So, moving on. I’m in Denver, where I’ll do two events tonight. At the airport today, I was given the option to pay a little extra for “economy plus,” which offers more leg room and it was the best $39 I ever spent. My inseam is about 35 inches and some plane rides can be pretty punishing. This was grand — except for the man in the middle seat, who crossed his legs in such a way that his (shoeless!) foot was definitely in my space. Really, he should have paid me seven bucks. What is it with men and personal space on planes? I hate to generalize and I’m sure some men will chime in with stories about women on planes, but this is a chronic problem for me when I travel.