The Pun Also Rises

"A Tisket, A Tasket"

    Last week I was at a conference in Dayton, Ohio. One thing I will say about Dayton is that the restaurant selection is not as good as it is in North Adams. I was still hungry after a conference lunch, so I decided to see what was on the hotel's list of fine dining recommendations. That list included the Cinnabon located at the Dayton Airport. I wish I was making this up.

    Given those food options, I was glad to find a gift basket waiting in my room upon my arrival. While I would normally leap at the chance to eat a basket full of junk food, lately I've been thinking that I need better food karma. (Not that I want to be reincarnated as food, but I tend to have good food luck, and I've tried to start paying it back to the world.)

    This is why I made sure to offer my roommate whatever he wanted from the basket first, before wolfing down the remainder. I saved the basket, but it wouldn't fit in my travel bag when it came time to pack. Chatting with other attendees, one asked why I had a basket, and I said that I had already eaten all the food in my gift basket.

    She replied, "What gift basket?"

    Apparently, she hadn't gotten one. Nor had anyone else. It became clear to me that the basket had been put in my room in error. I tried to share the wealth by offering the empty basket to the other attendees, but I was turned down.

    This left me carrying a large carry-on bag and a small empty white wicker basket into the Dayton Airport for my flight home. The lobby of the Dayton airport was very small, featuring a rest area with three white rocking chairs. I sat in the rocking chairs and yelled at the passers-by, "Get off my lawn!" Best of all, I had a perfect view of the famed Airport Cinnabon. I wanted to leave my basket next to the rocking chairs, because it matched perfectly, but airport security guards tend to be very suspicious if you leave packages in public places.

    However, the basket did come in handy for airport security. Eschewing the airport-provided plastic containers, I used the basket to hold my wallet to send through the X-ray machine. After regathering my belongings, I noticed that numerous people were staring at the man carrying a big travel bag and a tiny wicker basket.

    When I finally got on the plane, the girl sitting next to me asked why I had a basket. I told her that it didn't fit in my luggage but that I couldn't bring myself to throw it out. I then offered it to her, in the hopes that I could thus divest myself of it without having the basket go to waste, but she refused.

    I boarded my connecting flight, and the flight attendants smirked as they noticed the basket. One asked me if I was the Easter Bunny, and I replied that I'd already eaten all the eggs. Then I asked her if she would like the basket since I had no need for it. She accepted it, but ten minutes after the plane had taken off, the flight attendant returned the basket to me, now filled with various snacks, most of which were above standard airline peanut fare.

    After sharing with my row (which ended up including a woman from MCLA!), I decided I still had food karma to gain. I turned to the family behind me and asked the father, "Would your girl care for some candy from strangers?" Once they accepted, I encouraged them to continue passing the basket of food back to other rows. I heard surprised exclamations of gratitude a few rows back, and as an added bonus, I had gotten rid of the basket.

    When the plane arrived home, I went out for dinner. I ordered a burrito, and with no provocation and for no discernable reason, the person serving me said, "Have a free soda." The karma from the basket was inescapable, so even if I started the trip down a few notches, I ended seven up.

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    Seth Brown is a local humor writer, a complete basket-case, and the author of "Think You're The Only One?". His website is www.RisingPun.com

All work on this page is copyright Seth Brown. If you are sharing it, please give attribution. If you want to reprint it, please contact me first.