Kelsey Timmerman's Blog, page 38

Octogenarian Threatens to Kick My Ass on Plane

I don’t recline my seat on airplanes. I don’t hold it against people who do, but I just don’t do it. It’s a point of pride and my way of showing a little Midwestern spatial respect.

So when I felt the jab to the back of my arm, I thought the person behind me accidentally bumped me. When I felt it again, I turned around to see a man in his 80s who looked more than a little like Uncle Leo from Seinfeld.

“Stop leaning back,” the man said in a weak, gravelly whisper. “You’re hitting my laptop!”

“I’m just sitting here,” I said. “My seat isn’t even reclined.”

Okay, I probably should have apologized even though I did nothing wrong other than shift my weight and I should have called him “sir,” but I was somewhat offended that this man didn’t recognize how polite of a passenger I was. In fact, he thought the opposite, and quite fervently so.

“I’ll kick your ass!” The man said.

I waited for a laugh. There was no laugh. He was serious. He wanted to throw down at 30,000’ somewhere between Texas’s southern hospitality and Indiana’s Mid-western sensibility. He wanted it to be Go Time!

I looked from him to the woman with a baby strapped to her chest across the aisle. We shared a brief, “Can you believe this?” look, and then I turned back around and put my ear buds in.

That’s when I was assaulted.

The man gasped in a wheezy breath of air and then with all of the might his arthritic arms could muster, he hit the back of my seat. My neck snapped back and then I flew forward like a crash test dummy.

I turned around.

“I’ll kick your ass!” He said again, on the off chance I forgot.

“Sir, do you realize if you keep this up, they’ll probably have to land the plane early.” I tried to reason. “No one wants that.”

“When the plane lands,” he said. “I’m going to kick your fucking ass!”

I’m completely ready to get punched in the face by the man. I wondered if my face would bruise more or if his knuckles, courtesy of the blood thinners he undoubtedly takes, would.

At this point the women across the aisle shielded her baby in case a kerfuffle broke loose.

I’m not sure what it would take to engage me in a fight. I haven’t been in a fight since second grade in which I scrapped with a third grade girl. (I won, which is impressive when you consider a third grade girl is like twice the size of a second grade boy.) But I’m nowhere near fighting mode. Instead I’m shocked, dumbfounded, and inconvenienced.

“Mam,” I called the flight attendant who was almost back to us, but hadn’t seen a thing. “The gentleman behind me threatened to kick my ass, and then he threatened to kick my ‘fucking ass’ when we land.”

The man said something about his computer and how I was trying to destroy it. His voice is weak and barely audible if you aren’t looking at him within left hook range.

“Sir,” the flight attendant said, “he has the right to recline his seat.”

“Oh,” I said, “I wasn’t even reclining my seat.”

She shot me a look that said, “I got this. Just shut up.”

I felt like a frustrated child who had been wronged, and watched in disbelief, as my parent wasn’t going to take a stand even though justice was clearly on my side. But more than that I just wanted to get home and not have to land in St. Louis or anywhere that wasn’t Indianapolis.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, although my neck was sore (and days letter still is) and I had a temporary headache. I couldn’t wait for the cops to meet this guy when he got off the plane.

The plane landed. I grabbed my bags and didn’t look back at the man. There were no waiting cops. I thought about pushing the issue. Not because I was angry, but this guy should not be allowed to fly. If he had done this to someone whose blood boils instantly, he would have got punched in the face and the plane would have to make an emergency landing. Or if he would have hit the seat of someone who was older or had neck problems, he could have really injured them.

But since the flight attendant didn’t see anything, and I would have had to pull in the mother with the baby strapped to her chest as a witness and probably have had to answer questions and be asked if I was going to file charges, I said nothing.

I’ve flown around the world multiple times. This year alone I’ve spent more than a week sitting on a plane staring at the seat in front of me. I’ve had toddlers sit in front of me and fully recline their seat. I’ve had people ram their seats back as hard as they could without even looking to check with me.

Flying can be frustrating. Flying is frustrating.

If the man would have punched me in the face, I’m not sure I would’ve said anything. It wasn’t until I met this man that I realized the extent I hate sitting on an airplane.

I would rather be punched in the face than delayed.

UPDATE: So apparently the trauma of the experience knocked some things loose in my ear that control balance.  I can’t sleep on my right ear or look down without the room spinning. I’m told that this should be a temporary problem.  I can’t decide if I’m impressed with the brute strength of the man or if I’m disappointed with my fragility.

Have you ever witnessed a fight or other altercation on a plane?

Win a Fair Trade Gift Basket!

This year I’ve seen Fair Trade preserving a culture in Colombia, and it sending kids to school in Ivory Coast.  That’s why I’m so

pumped to kick off Fair Trade month (October) by giving away a Fair Trade gift basket provided by Fair Trade USA (see below).

All you have to do is answer the following question in the comments below, or on my Facebook wall, or on Twitter using #FairTradeContest.

Have you ever bought Fair Trade? 

A YES or NO is sufficient for entry, but if you’d like to expand, I would love to know why, why not, what, or if you’ve even heard of Fair Trade before. The winner will be randomly selected on Friday.

If you aren’t sure what Fair Trade is this should help.  And here are are 10 easy ways to celebrate Fair Trade month.

Here’s what you’ll win…(there’s some yummy stuff and great stories in here)…

In this lovely Fair Trade Certified tote bag (made in a Fair Trade factory in India) you will find: Just Love Coffee Roasters, Madhava Natural Sweetenersagave, Rishi Tea ginger pu-erh tea, Coconut Bliss, Stash Tea Guayusa, Numi Organic Tea sampler, Lily’s Sweets Chocolate and Badger Balm lip tint & shimmer.

Ivoirian Crocodile Hunter (Eaten a Month After I Shot This Video)

It was bound to happen. Thankfully it didn’t happen when I shot this.

Tourists paid this guy to throw live chickens to the crocs. It’s real gruesome gladiator stuff. Everyone cheers on the helpless chicken. I wonder what the tourists did when a croc whipped his legs out from beneath him and then ate him.

Wanna win a Fair Trade T-shirt?

What do you think or Rule29‘s redesign of my site?  Do yourself a favor and reload until you see the banana costumes.

To celebrate, I’m giving away a Fair Trade T-shirt and an autographed copy of the 2nd edition of Where Am I Wearing?  Just leave a comment, serious or otherwise, about what you’d like me to blog about and I’ll randomly select a commenter as the winner.

What my wife thinks of me

“How does your wife put up with you?” If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been asked that I would be rich.

Annie is my hero. We just celebrated our fifth anniversary, but we’ve been together for 16 years. I love traveling and sharing stories from the page and the stage, but I love the normal things in life the most: playing in the yard with the kids, sitting down for dinner, watching TV after a long day, sitting in a quiet house and just talking. Without Annie, normal wouldn’t be possible for me. She keeps my feet on the ground.

This week Annie came to my talk at Ball State. Normally, she doesn’t get to see me speak because I’m at a university far from home or she’s juggling kids. It was great to see her in the audience. In a way I felt like she should have been up on that stage with me. My journey is hers.

The Ball State Daily News interviewed Annie for a story before my talk. They only used a sentence or two from her email interview. I wanted to share the rest.

On How We Met

Kelsey and I grew up in the same small town and attended the same high school. We always knew of each other but weren’t in the same class and never really had much interaction. Kelsey was out on a bike ride one evening and stopped at my house to ask if he could borrow a sweatshirt because he was cold. He said he was having some friends over the next night and invited me to come. Although I didn’t even realize it at the time, it was his smooth way of asking me out even though, as he says, he was actually really cold! Eleven years later, he took me geocaching in Brown County and got on one knee after pretending to find the cache! Even after eleven years, I was totally surprised, and he tells people I managed to stop laughing long enough to say yes!

What She Thinks About All of My Traveling

Kelsey loves what he does, and I think he is very fortunate to have a career he is so passionate about. People often question how I put up with him, but I don’t think they realize that while he enjoys his travels and is always excited to get a story, it isn’t always easy for him! He misses the kids like crazy, and the sacrifice he makes to be away allows me to be a stay-at-home mom. Although it is hard, we actually feel fortunate to be able to experience that time apart because it makes us realize how much we appreciate each other and how much we love being together as a family.

It can definitely be hard to juggle both kids when Kelsey is gone, but we get a lot of help from our families and friends, and we have two pretty great kids who keep me both busy and entertained. We get into a routine, and I joke with him that there is one less kid to pick up after when he is gone!

Where Am I Eating?

WHERE AM I EATING?

Kelsey’s new book WHERE AM I EATING? A JOURNEY THROUGH THE GLOBAL FOOD ECONOMY comes out May 2013. Here’s a taste…

My Grandpa was a farmer. My Dad farmed growing up. My name is Kelsey Timmerman and I couldn’t make boxed Mac ‘n Cheese.

This is how out of touch I was with food.

I used to say if there were a pill to take instead of eating, that I would take it. I was too lazy to shop, cook, clean, repeat. It was too much work.

But in 2009 the US government began to require Country of Origin Labeling on most foods. I was amazed at how global our diet had become.

The local / farmer’s market movement is growing, but not as fast as the global food movement. In the past decade we’ve doubled the amount of food we import.

Before I ate anything I started to ask myself….

Where Am I Eating? and I looked for the labels.

PRODUCT OF COLOMBIA

I followed my Starbucks coffee to Colombia. I asked Starbucks for help locating the Colombian farmers who supply them, but they told me that was proprietary information.

Proprietary information or not, I found Felipe, a father of three, who grows coffee on a steep, eroded mountain side in southern Colombia. He let me pick coffee, but mainly I clung to his trees like a stripper on a pole as I used every part of my body to NOT fall off the mountain. Felipe faces falling coffee prices, paramilitary soldiers, and a changing climate.

–

PRODUCT OF COSTA RICA

I followed my Dole banana to Costa Rica where I got up at 4AM and biked into Dole’s banana jungle in a monsoon alongside Juan. Juan has given 25-years and half-a-finger to Dole. He won worker of the year in 2005. The award is unsigned and hangs on his wall in a wood frame he bought himself.

—

PRODUCT OF IVORY COAST

I followed my chocolate bar to the Ivory Coast where I met a 20-year-old slave on a cocoa farm who left his parents in Ghana without saying goodbye. He gave me this note to deliver to them:

“My mother and father, I am sorry for not telling you before leaving. I am not missing. I will be back again. You don’t worry about me. I am in the Ivory Coast.”

Perhaps against my better judgment, I hatched a plan to free him, but then he went missing again. The experience shook my soul.

PRODUCT OF NICARAGUA

I met untrained divers in Nicaragua who dive deeper and deeper in search of a declining population of lobster. 100% of the divers have diving injuries. But perhaps the only thing worse than lobster diving is ending lobster diving. There aren’t any other jobs.

PRODUCT OF CHINA

In China, I dined with an apple farmer’s daughter at a swanky 10th floor restaurant overlooking Shanghai. While apple farmers in the US struggle with falling apple juice prices since China entered the market, Mr. Feng in China is sending his kids to college and helping them buy homes.

Given that China has had a host of food scares and that less than 2% of food imported into the U.S. is inspected, do I want my kids drinking apple juice produced in China? Do you want yours?

PRODUCT OF EARTH

There are more than a billion farmers on the planet. 60% of them live in poverty. They feed us, and, for the most part, we value their efforts less and less.

Over the course of this journey, I ate bat, cane rat, and guinea pig, yucca, sugar cane, coffee, and fruits and vegetables I had never heard of. I shook the calloused hands of the farmers who fed me – the people who feed us – and witnessed a relationship between man and land that perhaps only my grandpa would recognize.

Ultimately, our policies, our environmental practices, our appetite for cheaper, fresher food year round -how we eat – impacts the way they live.

Whether a lobster diver or lobster diner, we share an environment and a planet, but more than that we have a shared humanity and an appetite for living healthy lives in which our children can grow.

The world’s population is growing exponentially but the number of farmers is declining. Farming is a livelihood and perhaps a lifestyle that we can’t live without.

A Free Press Isn’t Free

Do you subscribe to your local newspaper?

I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t, until the Muncie Star Press began charging for online access a few weeks ago.  I read the paper every day and I never paid for it.  I was a freeloader.

We’ve become so used to free, but a free press isn’t free. Reporters, photographers, editors, and printers need paid.  They have families and mortgages and electric bills.

I complained when I heard the This American Life Episode that revealed the Chicago Tribune and other newspapers had outsourced their hyper-local content to a company using  computer programs and Filipinos to write stories.  But who could blame them with freeloaders like me?

I acknowledge that all of my complaining about thinner papers and shorter stories and bad writing in all of sorts of online and in print publications was hypocritical.  Unless we pay for a free press, stories will only get shorter, papers will get thinner, and writing will get worser (see, you are reading a free article right now!).

So kudos to the Star Press for charging.  For $12 per month, I get papers on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday and online access every day.  I’ve subscribed to the New York Times online since they began requiring it.  That means I pay $27 per month for my local paper and the paper of record. Not bad.

BUT SOME PEOPLE CAN’T AFFORD THE PAPER

While I should pay for the paper, there are some in my community who can’t afford $12 per month.  Once there is a pay wall in place, where will they get their local news?  This does concern me.  And I’m sure many a paper has struggled with this decision. Local news shouldn’t be restricted to those who can only afford it.  I hope that papers who charge for online access find a solution to this dilemma.  Maybe they could have a scholarship program for people living in poverty and for students.

I’ll end with the same question I began with: Do you subscribe to your local newspaper?

Speaking at Ball State Tonight

Tonight I’m speaking in front of my hometown crowd at Emens Auditorium on Ball State’s campus. Typically when I speak somewhere I’m in town for a day or two, and then I go back home. But this is home! I could ride my bike to Emens! I do research at the library! If I screw this one up, I will have to move!

Actually, I’ve been looking forward to tonight for a long time. If there’s anywhere I should be talking to folks about being local and global citizens, it’s in my hometown. It should be fun.

I’d love to see you there. Here are the details.

What: “Common Threads: Searching for Community in our Globalized World”

Who: Kelsey Timmerman, author of “Where Am I Wearing?”

Where: John R. Emens Auditorium

When: 7:30 p.m. Tuesday

Event is free and opened to the public.

I’ll be spending most of the afternoon and evening on Ball State’s campus meeting with students. The Ball State Daily News has a feature on me today with a quote from Annie. (Annie is really the unsung hero of this entire story. She showed me her entire email interview today. I hope she’ll let me run the whole thing as a future post.) I also was mentioned Daily News column.

Should be an awesome day!

One of the most personal essays I’ve ever written

Writing this essay in Wabash Magazine was uncomfortably personal. Without writing, I’m not sure how other people make sense of their lives.

Open publication – Free publishing – More alumni

Speaking in St. Louis Area

At Lindenwood University (St. Charles, MO, campus)

Tomorrow (September 11th) I’m speaking at Lindenwood University at 7PM in the Spellman Center’s Anheuser Busch Leadership Room. Given the name of the room, I think there might be (should be) free beer. There’s only one way you’ll find out…be there!

Of course, this begs the question: Does a drunk audience mean an audience that laughs at my jokes more or heckles me more. Either way, you should be there. All the dirty details are here.

At Lindenwood University (Belleville, IL, campus)

On September 12th my lecture is from 10-11AM, followed by a Q&A from 11 to 11:30AM. I have no idea where I’ll be speaking. Drop me a tweet @kelseytimmerman or an email hi@kelseytimmerman.com tomorrow evening and hopefully I’ll know then.  I would deliver my message of global/local responsibility on the street corner to one drunk guy if need be.  So it doesn’t really matter.