Grendel’s Kitchen

Reading this article in the New York Times, I was cheered: I can’t tell you how many times I sloshed my ice tea — although more often it came to mind while sloshing Wild Turkey — in a glass and wondered WHY? Why is that ice in this particular form (and I don’t mean square)? Is it a solid or not when it’s ice?Seriously. But why have I kept silent so many years? Because I’ve been burned before.

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 10/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

There are all manner of things in this world that baffle me, but a few stand out — usually physics-related. I attribute that total density and inability to comprehend all things physics, my slapshot chess skills, my poor driving ability and my teenage rebellion to Dad, who, being a physics guy, tried to instill in me a love for the staples of life: math, physics and chess. And then foolishly attempted to teach me to drive the family Thunderbird. And by the way, it was his faulty gene pool that resulted in a daughter born without depth perception. I would have preferred his nose. Somehow quantum physics, Shrodinger’s cat and rebellion against authority are intertwined in my head and intersect in one concept: parallel parking.These are subjects that I will never question in public. I may say aloud that the cat is alive, but secretly know it’s dead. I accept that the extra dimensions of string theory need to be curled up, silly (but don’t really understand why). Like saying we live in a “Democracy” — I’ll call it that because it sounds so pretty, but really, does that make any sense at all? I prefer to pay extra to park in a garage when I hit the Big City because someone might hit my new Prius if I park on the street. And the last time I questioned physics was in a group discussion amongst a pack of flight attendants on a long delayed Eastern airlines flight from Lima, Peru to Miami in the late ’80s.I had fallen under the influence of the now most dangerous professor in America, erstwhile Cranky English Literature 101 Canon Explaining TA, at the University of Virginia, had tossed my full-ride ROTC (Marine Corps) scholarship to the winds (and so went my tuition — ooops, that depth perception problem). What to do with myself for 8 months before the next school year began? Staying home and spouting my newly formed opinions about the world would surely eliminate any possibility of parental support. I wanted to travel, I was fearless and accustomed to the uniform, I thought I could speak Spanish and French (after all, it was on my resume), and I had no funds.Coffee, tea, or milk? Abrocharsen sus cintarones, por favor! Welcome to Eastern Airlines, non-stop to Cali, Columbia, Port au Prince, Haiti, San Salvador, Lima, Santo Domingo, Caracas! Oh, and of course, there was Boston, new home of The on again, off again Boyfriend. Non-stop it was!As were the complex intellectual discussions. Music, art, literature, and … my downfall: physics. Late at night, coming home from Cali, we stood in the blue light of an L1011 galley and struggled with a question: if the airliner were cruising along at speeds averaging 800 kph, and one of us intentionally leapt into the air, would that person be instantly slammed up against the bulkhead at rapid speed?

We froze. I started to laugh, tensed my muscles and prepared to leap. And I still don’t know if it was the oh so intentionally tight Christian Dior skirt (“Ladies, uniforms are designed to be close-fitting. Otherwise, in an unplanned or hard landing, your clothing would be instantly ripped from your body, and you would no longer be seen as an authority figure in the rescue operation!”) or the same mind-numbing fear that grips me everytime I face down a parking spot, but something stopped me.I didn’t want to die that way — not before my 21st birthday. and not in Coach. But many years later, thanks to my dear friend — The Boyfriend who became the Colleague and is now neither — who told that tale at a Boston roofdeck cocktail party, that violent shattering of carefully coiffed flight attendant against the bulkhead was merely a whisper against the wall of humiliating laughter from the cadre of well-educated, well-heeled folks who tell business persons and politicians alike what to do.That’s why I just don’t get why ice is slippery, I don’t parallel park, and I’m not asking any questions — out loud.