The Flying Nun

“Something tells me we’re not in Kansas, anymore, Toto.” How many times have I heard Robin Williams borrow that statement Dorothy makes when she first finds herself in Oz? The expression does seem to “say it all” when it comes to what one often senses when traveling away from home. For example, it about sums up the thoughts I had when at age nineteen I found myself in Ezeiza, the international airport outside Buenos Aires, watching African men clad in tribal robes as they attempted to hail a porter by making otherworldly hissing sounds. Those familiar sentiments I have when experiencing the unfamiliar came to me again this morning at Logan Airport in Boston. I got up about 3 am, did a quick workout at Novell in Waltham, headed down to the airport, and entered the terminal a little past 5:30 am. I was on “autopilot.” As I was checking in at the Delta kiosk I was taken aback when I spotted a nun’s habit. The habit was comprised of a black robe and a very large white hat with stiff flaps that extended to the sides, folded inward again, then up and out - - why, this was a habit just like Sally Fields’ character wore on “The Flying Nun” television series! But it seemed the flaps on this hat were even larger than on the TV show. Just as I was about to take a second look to size up this scene, a scene I just possibly may not see on a typical day in Provo, I restrained myself. “Don’t stare, don’t gawk!” My lecture to myself was quite effective. I was doing well, but with my peripheral vision I noticed the nun’s face. “That is one manly looking, nun!” Fortunately, that is what I thought, not what I said - - I said nothing. I had managed to avert my eyes and maintain exemplary decorum. I had moved on, but then heard the nun speak to another passenger - - it seemed to me that the voice was rather deep for a nun. I mustered all of my sense of respect and manners, and was set to go on my way. But something had to give, and the relative silence around the kiosks was finally broken. “Hey Sister Annie, what’s the wingspan on that thing?!!” Such insolence! I looked up. The question had come from the young woman working the ticket counter for Delta, as she called out to her fellow employee, the “nun.” I will not soon forget my experience this Halloween at the Delta terminal in Boston.