COMMENTS & CURIOSITIES -- peter buffa

TWA Flight 176 to Newport-Mesa. Come in please. I am coming to you from

the great beyond, the great above, the great whatever -- on my way back

to the Real Big Apple once again.

Thanksgiving week is an excellent time to travel. People are so cheerful

in airports and on airplanes anyway, but they become even more friendly

and courteous on holiday weekends.

At times like this, I am grateful for my New York upbringing. I’m careful

not to look at anyone or say anything unless I’m spoken to.

Right now, a large flight attendant is trying to explain to a small,

elderly man from a distant land that his carry-on (in this case, the

dreaded cardboard box bound with rope) is too big for the overhead

compartment and will have to be checked.

The small man is now trying his drag his box down the aisle and a tug of

war is underway. This will not end well. But it is no concern of mine. I

see nothing. I hear nothing.

There is a bright spot in our section, though -- a very funny flight

attendant named Karen Olson. I knew I liked her the moment I saw the

button she was wearing: “Tip Me -- or You’ll Die of Thirst.”

This was an early flight out of John Wayne. As we taxied out, the pilot

announced we’d have a short wait at the end of the runway until the noise

curfew was lifted at 7 a.m. A passenger, obviously not from here, asked

Karen why there was a noise curfew. Without missing a beat she said, “I

don’t know, something to do with all the rich Republicans around here.”

Speaking of fun, been to the Balboa Fun Zone lately? I was there recently

for the first time in years. My niece, Rosemary Buffa-Reilly and her

husband, Xavier (Italian-Irish is a great blend), were in from Boston for

a few days with their two boys, Xavier Quinn, almost 5, and Matthew, all

of 2.

Lunch at Ruby’s and a few spins at the Fun Zone seemed like a good idea.

I knew the place was under new management and had been given a make-over,

but little did I know what a make-over it was. It’s squeaky clean and the

employees are friendly and courteous. What a concept!

I’ve been nuts for amusement parks and arcades since I was a young

whippersnapper. What does that mean, by the way? What is a whipper, and

why do you snap it?

The Fun Zone is a far cry from the amusement parks where I cut my teeth

as a mouthy, annoying child -- namely, Coney Island in Brooklyn, and

Palisades Park in Jersey. They were noisy, dirty, slightly dangerous

places, where very unpleasant workers of questionable personal hygiene

yelled very bad words at us just because we tried to steal a midway prize

every now and then, like every 15 minutes, maybe.

The Fun Zone, on the other hand, smooths the rough edges of the amusement

park experience without losing the soul of it. The anchors are four

American classics -- the carousel, the Ferris wheel, bumper cars and a

fun house.

These are the same rides that I craved in the ‘50s and that millions of

other kids dreamed about 20 and 30 and 50 years before that. And I

suppose that’s the appeal of the Fun Zone. It’s a snapshot of a time and

a world that no longer exists. A mechanical world -- not electronic, not

digital, not virtual.

I’ll resist the cliche about “a simpler time.” Promise. Even though it’s

true, and it’s exactly what popped into my mind as we rode the Ferris

wheel. This big but uncomplicated wheel is virtually unchanged from the

one that George Ferris introduced at the 1896 World Exposition. And the

carousel, setting aside the electric motor, is not much different than

the versions that brightened parks throughout Europe in the 19th century.

Setting the nostalgia factor for someone my age, though, I wondered if

the experience had any meaning beyond pure fun for my great-nephews. OK,

we’re getting a little analytical for the Fun Zone here.

The important thing was that the two boys had a blast, although

2-year-old Matthew was not entirely sold on the Ferris wheel. He is a lad

of few words, but he speaks them clearly and often. He has a very funny

habit of saying “Help!” when he’s stressed about something. He didn’t

mind the rotation of the Ferris wheel, except for the very top of the

turn. Every time we hit that spot, he’d tense his shoulders and say,

“Down. Help!”

Speaking of all things nostalgic, I forgot to tell you about an idea I

had. It’s my advanced age. Not much room left on my hard drive. And a lot

of what’s there is corrupted.

The Year 2000 is bearing down on us like a grizzly on the charge.

Everyone is doing a “Best” or “Biggest” or “Most Important Whatever of

the Century” list, and we need to get to work. We need to celebrate our

history, our heritage, our rightful place in the American century. And we

only have 33 days left to do it. Time Magazine has done the “100 Most

Important People of the 20th Century,” and the Grammy Association is

compiling the “Top 100 Songs.” The TV Food Network is doing the “100 Most

Important Foods of the Century,” two of which are Velveeta and Twinkies,

believe it or not. They each have a shelf life of about 1,200 years, so I

guess that’s important.

But never mind that. You get the point.

This very publication is doing an excellent job with its Millennium

Moments series, but what about those who march to a different drummer,

who take the road less traveled?

In short, who and what are Newport-Mesa’s “100 Oddest People and Events

of the 20th Century?” Sid Soffer for one, obviously, but that leaves 99

slots. Give me your thoughts and your nominees. I am determined that

we’re not going to take a back seat to Twinkies and Velveeta. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Fridays.

E-mail him at o7 PtrB4@AOL.com.

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