Urban Thought Collective

I got a rude awakening last month when I showed up to SFO to discover that my Platinum status on American Airlines had been reduced to Gold. I flew way too many Southwest flights last year, so I lost some of my status. Not only did I have to endure the humiliation of being told to get out of the special check-in line, but I also now have to go through the slow security line like everybody else and probably won’t be upgraded ever again.

That’s why I always try to make sure that I have something to pass the time while I’m wedged up against the window and some guy whose shoulders are as wide as my legs are long. Inevitably, we will be sitting next to one another in the exit row. After situating myself in the “tight-pack,” my routine rarely deviates from the following: I fly American Airlines most of the time on my business trips, so I reach for the American Way Magazine and turn immediately to the last page where I find Jim Shahin’s latest offering. His random witticisms have been entertaining me for years. Next, I break out whatever book I am reading, and try to get comfortable. I just finished I Wonder as I Wander (how appropriate) by Langston Hughes, one of my literary idols, and am currently reading Three Cups of Tea. I highly recommend both.

By this time, we have usually pushed back and are speeding down the runway. The speech about seatbelts being fastened, tray tables and seats being upright and locked, and the thrust forcing my head back against the headrest may as well be a muezzin’s call to prayer because that’s when I always close my eyes and ask that His hand guide my aircraft to a safe landing.

If it’s a long flight, I can’t wait for that “all clear” bell that sounds at 10,000 feet because that’s when the laptop, the Bose QC-3’s and the DVD’s come out. It’s best to come prepared because otherwise you could find yourself watching Christina Ricci as Penelope the pig-nosed girl on the small screen 3 rows in front of you. Today’s selection is Ocean’s 13. If ever there were a series of movies made for this type of viewing the Ocean’s movies are it. There are so many subtleties contained therein that can easily be missed sitting in your theater’s stadium seats or on the couch at home.

Staring at your laptop with headphones on, looking like a referee trying to determine whether or not T.O. actually got 2 feet in bounds, you are a little more in-tune to the nuances than you might normally be. You know the players: Clooney, Pitt, Cheadle, Damon, Mac. This ensemble cast really does their thing. I’m almost afraid to check out the Rat Pack’s original version of this trilogy for fear that it will be a let down.

Okay, I don’t mean to unleash my inner Edwardo Jackson, but here’s the deal. They robbed the casino, then they had to enlist Julia Roberts to swipe the Faberge Egg from the museum in Rome, and now they’re back to Sin City to help a friend, and oh by the way, do some more fancy breaking and entering. The dialogue in this movie is so good that I think I would enjoy it just as much as an audio tape with Pitt and Clooney finishing each other’s sentences, Cheadle’s crazy British slang and the incessantly used clever code names for every caper that they pull. In case you’re not up:

Billy Martin: Second Chance.

Irwin Allen: A major disaster or catastrophic event.

Reverse Big Store: The opposite of a bunch of empty offices set up to look like a real life, legitimate business.

Who could forget the Looky-Lou, Hell-in-a-Handbasket, Smuggler’s Paradise, and Baker’s Dozen from Ocean’s 12? My two favorite scenes from this movie were when Pitt comes to Clooney’s hotel room to find him teary-eyed, watching Oprah giving some poor family a new house. “Are you watching Oprah!?” asks Pitt’s Rusty. “Naw…um…I was just flipping through and, uh…,” says Clooney’s Ocean in a poor attempt at a cover-up. The two of them then proceed to stand in front of the TV, entranced for the next minute or so until Rusty asks, “Is she really going to build her a new home? For the whole family?” as he chokes back some tears and sniffs. The other is Virgil and Turk (Casey Affleck and Scott Caan) starting a labor rebellion down at a Mexican manufacturing plant that finds Affleck’s Virgil Malloy quoting Emiliano Zapata, (“prefiero morir de pie que vivir de rodillas”) to inspire his co-workers.

It never ceases to amaze me how this collection of con-men have the intellect of rocket-scientists, the streets smarts of Huggy Bear, and are completely fluent in Mandarin Chinese. They’re like the modern day A-Team, but with better bad guys and swanky sushi bars playing the best trip-hoppy lounge music you’ve ever heard. If they make it to an Ocean’s 17, 18, or 19, I’ll probably be in the house. Sure, the plot gets a tad predictable but you are always thoroughly entertained by the antics.

Like I said, I’m not EJ, so I’ll stop short of giving it half-dozen Reels, as I have clearly digressed yet again. I’m the travel guy, and as such let me leave you with this last tip. Make sure you have enough battery left to finish the movie.

Destah Owens is a single father of two from Northern California and proud UCLA Bruin who travels the world for his job as a computer engineer. His blog “Souffles in Saigon” is exclusive to Urban Thought Collective.