The Mile High Book Club

It seems I am addicted to books that discuss the evolution of things. I’m not speaking in Darwinian terms (although I have been to the Galapagos Islands). Rather, I love books that explore the origins of Spam, or Twinkies, or the Yugo.

As I think back, I believe I may have discovered this gene in my reading DNA thanks to The Panama Hat Trail by one Tom Miller. More than a mere exercise in travel journalism, Miller, in my humble opinion, stages a coup d’tete (sic) in weaving the tale of the Panama Hat, which actually has its origins in Ecuador (home of the aforementioned Galapagos). While he does not discover giant tortoises sporting jaunty straw hats, he does write a captivating (ahem) yarn of Ecuador and its people…and why its indigenous bowler has been pinned with the name of another country (the chapeaus were, in the day, exported worldwide via the Isthmus of Panama).

More recently, I have taken to treatises on the origins of food products. Among the goodies I have explored in the past year are Twinkies and doughnuts (neither of which I can eat due to a gluten intolerance). I must say that Twinkie Deconstructed by Steve Ettlinger was a bit dry (like a 20-year-old Twinkie), a little too scientific for my taste. Then again, considering that the Twinkie is more of a science project than a food product, maybe the tone is appropriate. Glazed America: A History of the Doughnut, by Paul R. Mullins, was also a bit professorial in tone, but more delectable to read. Sure, it's more about consumerism and soci0-economics than sugar and ice, but one chapter on doughnut history and another on the morality of downing dunkers are the frosting on the cake.

Lest you think I am a food addict, let me also mention another recent read--The Yugo: The Rise and Fall of the Worst Car in History by Jason Vuic. I can’t say it better than Sonja Sharp of Mother Jones. “Jason Vuic, a professor of modern European history, could have easily written a straightforward takedown of the most maligned automobile since the Ford Pinto. Instead, he uses the Yugo as a vehicle for an insightful and witty look at car culture, a half-century of Balkan history, and the last decade of the Cold War.” Indeed, Vuic’s paean makes luscious lemonade out of the world's most famous lemon.

Parenthetically, it does seem as though I am addicted to books with colons in their titles. As I wander through bookstores, monographs sporting colons are the ones I tend to digest. Both The Banana: The Fate of the Fruit That Changed the World and Bananas: How the United Fruit Company Shaped the World sound appeeling and are next on the reading list. There’s a lengthy book called The Toothpick: Technology and Culture that never fails to capture my attention in the bookstore. But I haven't sunk my molars into that one yet. Finally, The Book of SPAM: A Most Glorious and Definitive Compendium of the World's Favorite Canned Meat looks spamalicious (to coin a phrase). That's one, though, for which I'll have to work up an appetite.

Fee-Fi-Fomites: Avoiding Germs Like the Plague

Okay, Ladies and Germs:

It's time to improve your word power. Today's lexeme is fomite. What it is, according to our friends at Merriam-Webster, is an inanimate object (such as a doorknob) that may be contaminated with infectious organisms and serves in their transmission. For the air traveler, fomites are lurking everywhere you look, and even places you don't.

Let's ponder the cribs of fomites at the airport. We'll start with the touch screens on the self-service check-in machines. Next, let's wander over to the elevator and ATM buttons. I like to feel I've escaped relatively unscathed from these areas thanks to the use of knuckles rather than fingertips.

You might want to avoid touching handrails lining stairways and escalators. But admittedly, it's pretty hard to avoid touching the locks on bathroom stalls and the flushing implements on toilets ('nuf said). At the very least, use a paper towel to open the door handle leading you out of the bathroom.

Now, even if you manage to make it through the airport fomite-free, good luck on the airplane, my friend. There's the fomite on your tray table. There's the fomite in your seatback pocket (which is a popular place to stuff used tissues, if you catch my drift). Speaking of drifts, there's the ventilation system to consider. Since you are dealing with recirculated air, the best bet is to avoid using the overhead air vent, which can blow fomites straight into your lungs. Other ventilation notes--air circulation tends to be better toward the front of the plane. So if you sit in the first 10 rows, you are exposed to fewer germs. That said, if a passenger in your row or in three rows behind or in front of you is hacking away, you're screwed, no matter where you are sitting. When you get off that plane, all you can do is take your Emergen-C, use other immunity-strengthening strategies, pray, and get plenty of sleep.

Back to our friends the Fomites. The Fo Fighters are at their mightiest in the airplane lavatory. Ah, yes, those lovely lockers that challenge even the most flexible contortionist when nature calls. Simply put, airplane lavs are disgusting. How often do you see them cleaned during flight? It really makes one question the mental health of those who use said privies to join the Mile-High Club.

But I digress. Even if you wash your hands prior to exiting the W/C, you are not out of the woods. First, consider that the Environmental Protection Agency has found that 17 percent of all water taps on airplanes contain coliform bacteria (and hold that thought as well...we'll get back to it in a minute). So, that water you are using to clean your hands--maybe not so much. Secondly, to escape from the W/C, you must touch that door handle. I have taken to using a towelette to open the escape hatch, so that I don't have to use hand sanitizer upon returning to my seat. (Then I dispose of the fomite-filled towelette in the seatback pocket).

Okay, back to those water taps. Included in the EPA tap list are those in the kitchen galley. That means the water used to make coffee or tea is running through a germ-filled tap 17 percent of the time. And since said water is seldom boiled to the point where germs will be eliminated, consider that your cuppa java may by plagued with pathogens. So, you might want to buy your Starbucks in the airport and bring it on the plane.

Remember, dear reader, I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV. But let me proffer a few closing tips for fending off those foul fomites. The best advice I can offer is to be aware of your surroundings, wash frequently, carry hand sanitizer and a brawny supply of paper towels, and run like hell when the person sitting next to you in the waiting area starts sneezing.