Vampires – Things I wonder

Admittedly, I know nothing about vampires.    I’ve seen Dracula with Keeanu Reeves and that Tom Cruise/Brad Pitt vampire movie in the 90s, but I have yet to embrace this decade’s vampire fervor.  So … no … I haven’t seen Twilight or even Vampires Suck.

Close friends, relatives, and work related acquaintances would probably agree that I’m a tad mysophobic. So, the rudimentary premise of sucking the blood from their victim raises some questions. I have to wonder if there are vampires that could be afraid of germs too.  In my mind, there would have to be.  They look like people (with some slight physical differences), communicate in human languages, and have some human behaviors.  It would stand to reason there would be that one vampire that carries around hand sanitizer or a wet nap applying it to people’s necks before biting in.

What about bloodborne pathogen campaigns? Some places, like schools, post S.T.D. information to educate people about the dangers of Chlamydia or Gonorrhea and to abstain or be careful who they are with … because if they sleep with someone; they sleep with every partner they had before that.  In my mind, that idea would extend to the Vampire/Human relationship.  Posters would be posted in hallways noting that they should be careful who bites them because you never know who their vampire partner has bitten before.

After pondering some of that, I've also asked myself the inverse: "what if they’re immune to these kinds of things?"  From what I am told there isn’t much that could kill a vampire - back in my day, the lore was a wooden stake through the heart.  So if these are beings that could occupy space, be touched, and perceived then why aren’t there more stories about some being captured and studied to determine longevity or what antibodies exist in their blood exist to fight off colds or even HIV. Additionally, this would lead to more stories about protests for vampire rights or anti-vampire medical testing.

So ... getting away from the germy side of my curiosity, I also wonder if different vampires have a palate for different blood types.  Like someone may prefer a Bordeaux to a Chardonnay, would a vampire prefer an AB positive to an O negative?  If so, is it also like wine where age is a determinant?  Could vampires potentially get suggestions from blood stewards?  Such as: "This is a bold, vintage 70 year old, O Negative."

I can't say that I really have the inclination to investigate the vampire phenom further.  But my ignorance on the matter has made for interesting conversations with friends and coworkers. I'm sure through our discussions I'll eventually find answers to these questions ...

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Dispelling the Tooth Fairy

Everyone has a moment in their life when childhood traditions are put to rest.  I vividly remember shopping with my parents around Christmas time.  My mother saw a small pinball machine on an endcap and placed it in the shopping cart.  I had asked her who she’s getting it for and she gave me the vague response: “family.”

Christmas Day rolled around.  My mother gave me box that was wrapped with a white paper with little photos of presents printed on it.  I tore it open with delight and saw that it was a small pinball machine.  I was not mad, did not enjoy it any less, and I didn’t call my mum a fibber.  It was a great present.  But at that moment, I looked at the box differently.  I realized that presents were no longer brought by ‘Santa’   - I was five years old.

The following year I would come to my next realization that there was no Tooth Fairy.

One morning my father was preparing to go to work.  It was about 5:30am and he had turned on the hallway light. The brightness of it shined into my room and woke me.  Winter was winding down and spring was slowly emerging. Groggy, I flipped onto my other side and looked outside.  The sun was starting to rise and a blue haze of the morning sky made its way into my window.

I could hear the engine of the car running (which my father turned on to warm up the car while he did other things around the house) and the heavy sound of his belt buckle hitting the closet door as he took it off the rack.  I shut my eyes tightly to try to fall asleep quicker.  The light switch clicked and bright light that shined into my room dimmed to darkness.  I rolled onto my back, eased the tightness of my eyelids, and began to drift into sleep again.

A few moments passed. The light switch clicked and the bright light filled the air; again half-waking me.  I hear the heavy feet of my father growing louder as he walked towards my room.  Shielded me from the light he then reached for my pillow and (anything but gingerly) lifted it - tumbling me over, face first, to the other side of my bed as he shoved money under the pillow.

He walked, heavy footed, out of the door way as I lifted my face from the other pillow. The bright light filled the room again. The sound of his heavy footsteps trudging down the hall began to fade.   The switch clicked and the light disappeared.  The front door opened and the house shook as it closed.  The car door opened and then shut.  The lock of the transmission sounded as he put it into gear and drove away.

I turned on the light, lifted my pillow, and was excited to have the dollar that was left behind – the most I had ever received from the “Tooth Fairy.” Maybe it was because he didn’t have change (I typically got a quarter).

By the age of 6, I've said good bye to two iconic traditions of my youth.

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The Fly Who Saw Ireland

June 2005. JFK Airport. Aer Lingus Flight number 104 to Dublin now boarding.

Grabbing our carry-ons we crowd towards the gate. We form two lines handing the ticketing agents out boarding passes. He no doubt passes the entire line as the agents tear off the stubs -invisible to all of us

No boarding pass

No luggage.

No place to sit.

On the plane, we walk through the aisle and fumble around to find our seats.  Looking up at the tags to match them up to our ticket stubs - 4A, 7C, 15E and so on.  Finally, settling into my aisle seat, I await take off.

The plane levels out after takeoff and I take out my laptop.  I lower my tray table, place the computer on it, lift the lid, and turn it on.  After a few moments, I begin navigating around the many icons on my desktop.  As I am pressing on the touchpad I notice him through my periphery on my right.  Sitting there, rubbing his hands together, and staring at my screen. I think about how he made it here – nested in someone’s carry or just clandestinely through the doors.  I don’t bother him and I start playing a video game.

I awake after having nodded off a few hours into the flight. Groggy, MP3 player on, adjusting to the bright sunlight reflecting off the walls, I look around to reorient myself with my surroundings.  I see him again roaming listlessly around the cabin – I stare, begin to fantasize about his journey.   My staring goes unnoticed. The movements make me drowsy. My eyelids grow heavy, and I return to sleep.

We land in Dublin on schedule. Everyone stands and begins to shuffle around the overhead compartments for their belongings.  After standing for what seemed to be an eternity, hear the sound of the door open and begin to file out.  The steward has on a fake smile and is repeatedly telling everyone to have a nice day.

I smile.

As I step through the door he zips past and heads to the terminal at a record pace.  No one seems to notice.  I put my bag on the ground, extend the handle, and begin rolling it behind me towards the terminal.

I think back to New York imagine what he has experienced -  seeing the concrete and steel; hearing the city street noise. I think of the flight and the distance he's traveled. I think of all that he has ahead of him.  Who knows how much time he has left or what he will see - the green pastures, the stone castles, the water landscapes.

I think that he will have seen things in his life that very few of his kind, or even us, ever will.

The Fly Who Saw Ireland.

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