Indiana Jones vs Reality

Who doesn’t love Indiana Jones? He’s cool, can beat up Nazis with a whip and he keeps museums stocked up with things they didn’t even know they needed. So, on the odd occasion someone compares me to Indy, a smile crosses my lips. As I prepare to travel to parts unknown today, it occurs to me how wrong that comparison is.

Dr. Jones crawls out the window of the college he teaches at while he’s got students waiting to talk to him about their grades. I worked till midnight doing a barmitzvah last night and all I could think about was leaving the event and getting on the plane today. Instead of doing what Indy would do, I played the Cha Cha Slide and The Wobble on my DJ rig. I looked at the emergency exit more than once, but I knew the teens wouldn’t let me get far.

As I pack and think of how many shirts I need for a few weeks of travel and wonder if my socks will be warm enough, I think WWIJD? What would he do? Really? Have you ever seen Indy carry any luggage? He wears the same outfit in the desert, jungle rivers, and with the exception of knocking someone over the head and borrowing their uniforms to infiltrate the enemy, his clothes stay miraculously clean. What about underwear? Sure the jacket can handle some bullet dodging and Sahara sun, but I’m making sure that I have a dozen pair of clean underwear before I show up at the airport.

Indiana Jones obviously has no pets. My cat, snake and bird would have expired long ago if I just jumped on a plane like he does when someone’s journal shows up in the mailbox. What about his mail anyway? In 1944 there was no email and Sears and Roebuck was going strong. I’m sure Indy’s mailbox was crammed full of Diesel Punk spam within days of his departure. Does he even have any friends to check it? How many movies are there about him hanging around his hometown listening to radio shows and visiting neighbors?

Did Homeland security give Mr. Jones any problems when he jumped on a blimp/plane/(fill in mode of transport)? No. Apparently whips are okay and an occasional pistol isn’t getting anyone upset in Indy’s universe. Yet, my pirate gun (that doesn’t do anything) almost landed me in Albanian prison. Yes, the days of hijacking zeppelin planes when the officials ask too many questions are pretty much over.

So, am I like Indiana Jones? I say no, but ask my pets, neighbors, and people I write checks to. They’ll say I’m gone way too much.