I was on the airplane the other day. I have discovered that a great way to pass the time – if there is no turbulence – is to draw a picture.  I have previously commented on how my day planner also has a sketch pad section, so I am always prepared to whip out a picture of a goblin, or a warrior princess, or, if I’m feeling really creative, a warrior princess goblin.

Anyway, I was drawing my picture, minding my own business,  and the Flight Attendant passed by a few times. I didn’t notice her passing by, since I was deeply engrossed in my drawing.  But she stopped and looked at my picture, which was halfway finished.

“That’s a great drawing,” she said.  I thought that was nice of her to say. I was a bit annoyed because I was deep into the drawing when she interrupted me. You know that feeling you get when you are running with the headphones on, or maybe you’re cooking a great meal, or doing something you enjoy? Time largely loses its meaning, you feel like you are in a higher state of consciousness (airplane pun unintentional), things seem to be coming together. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls it flow. Atheletes call it the zone.

Anyway, I was in the zone, and she interrupted me. But it’s cool, because she was giving me a compliment. So I thanked her.

“That’s really nice,” she continued. This was a bit strange, because I was drawing a dragon, and I didn’t want him to look nice. But whatever. I thanked her again, hoping she’d leave me to try to salvage my ego. But then she dropped the bombshell.

“What is it?”  She asked.  I should have answered her question with a question, which is a great trick I learned by watching Donald Rumsfeld press conferences. 

For example, I could have said: “I haven’t decided yet. What do you think it should be?” Or something similar. Or I could have been mean and sarcastic, with something like “It’s your face!” But I’m not a mean person by nature.

Not able to think of a response that was both polite and clever, I answered her directly:

“A dragon,” I said. She frowned in confusion. I could see she was trying to imagine a dragon in the confused set of lines and scribbles I had put on the page.

“No,” she said, “definitely not a dragon. ” I’m pretty sure I let out a whimper, but if she noticed, she pretended not to.  “But it looks very nice,” she added and walked off. I considered folding the paper away and giving up. But I had another hour left on the flight, so I kept going. I told myself she just wasn’t much of a fantasy fiction fan. Or perhaps she had simply not realized that it wasn’t even halfway finished.  You know:  taking a look too early in the creative process, which is not pretty.

So, I finished it. Here it is. Does it look like a dragon to you?

Give me some Coffee or the Village Gets it!!!