MASK

The cabin is pressurized for your comfort and safety. In the unlikely event of a cabin depressurization, oxygen masks will appear overhead. Reach up and pull the mask closest to you, fully extending the plastic tubing. Place the mask over your nose and mouth, and slip the elastic strap over your head. Tighten by pulling on the ends. The bag does not need to inflate for oxygen to be flowing. If you are seated next to a small child or someone needing assistance, secure your own mask first, then assist the child.

What a thought. First of all, you know very damn well that if you are on a flight and those masks come popping down, you will shit your pants and puke immediately from fear. Everyone will. So then you are supposed to take this yellow margarine tub looking thing attached to a deflated douchebag, put it over your face and think things are gonna be swell? It would be kind of cool to take your time adjusting the little white elastic side pieces, fix your hair a bit, while your kid next to you just looked up at you and turned purple, then you could go OH! and help him with his own margarinecupdouchebag. Heh.

That is by far the scariest mask I can imagine ever seeing. Masks are so central to humanity, whether they are carved New Guinea tribal masks, like my dad hauled home somehow, or the simple act of smiling when you don't really feel like it.


Although I laugh and I act like a clown
Beneath this mask I am wearing a frown
My tears are falling like rain from the sky
Is it for her or myself that I cry

--The Beatles, "I'm A Loser"

In order to shield my pride I try
To cover this hurt with a show of gladness
But don't let my show convince you
That I've been happy since you decided to go.

--Smokey Robsinson, "Tears Of A Clown"

Masks feed the need to cover, change, alter, transform. To be momentarily what one is not, for fun or fright or perhaps to rob a bank or get some delicious Halloween candy. Change the face you have into something else for the world to see.

Makeup is a mask, I think, as I paint it on every day. The same routine, in the same order: powder, green zit stuff, tan zit stuff, undereye concealer, blush, lipstick, lip gloss, eyeshadow, mascara. It seems like a lot of shit for a slight improvement, but I do it anyway. I don't feel comfortable going out without that mask, although I know no one but me cares. I see my face in my makeup mirror that I have had forever, that same face, and I watch how the blush brings a life to my face, how the eyeshadow makes my eyes look more green. It is a tiny piece of magic, really only for me. A comfort.

The thing that all masks have in common is that they are uncomfortable after awhile. You can't really keep them on for long. Your crappy plastic Halloween mask will get hot and sweaty, your makeup will fade and get greasy,your tribal mask's weight will start killing your neck, and your fake smile will hurt your cheeks and your heart. Your airline oxygen will eventually run out, and you will either have lived to breathe unassisted or will be dead with a margarinecupdouchebag still strapped to your face.

Life is pressurized for your discomfort and misery. In the likely event of a life pressurization, masks will appear. Reach up and pull the mask closest to you, fully extending the lips over the teeth. Place the mask over your entire face, and attempt to laugh. Tighten by pulling on the cheeks. The face does not need to inflate for the mask to be working. If you are seated next to a small child or someone needing assistance, secure your own mask first, then assist the child with some candy corn or Fun Size Snickers.