Oh, the things I would do if I could fly.
There
are so many items I’d check off my to-do list, a goodly amount of them
illegal in many parts of the world – including the Saharan badlands,
where most of the laws currently on the books pertain to the ownership
of camels. First thing’s first: visit Paris, take an indulgent selfie at
the top of the Eiffel Tower, and impress some sweet little mademoiselle
with my ability to bypass the ticket lines at Euro Disney. Second
thing’s second: reverse the rotation of the Earth so I can go back in
time and pay 1950’s prices for Oreos and rock candy. Hey, it worked in
the first Superman movie.
Such
ponderances, if they can be legitimized by calling them that, are part
of the great fun in envisioning a world where superpowers are possible.
Which is why, on occasion, someone in my circle of friends will ask the
question, “What would you do if you had the power to such-and-such? How
would you behave if you could X, Y, and Z?” It should be noted that my
circle of friends is comprised largely of nerds. Like I needed to tell
you that.
What’s
interesting is that a growing number of generations can ask these types
of questions. Batman, powerless though he is, has been around for
almost 80 years. Superman is older still. Even some of the “newer”
superheroes, like Wolverine and The Incredible Hulk, made their debuts
when televisions were black-and-white, beer cost a nickel, and Kenny
Rogers didn’t look like he was sculpted from the meat they put in hot
dogs. For decades, children – and adult shut-ins like myself – have been
closing their eyes and envisioning the continents racing past far below
them, faster than a speeding bullet. Which would probably be terrifying
at first, but still safer than flying Jet Blue.
The
great thing about nearly a century’s worth of comic book silliness is
that, with an ever-growing preponderance of fantastical men and women,
the sheer wealth of superpowers currently on the books outnumber
instances of vomiting at a Justin Bieber concert. Professor X can read
peoples’ minds. The mighty Storm can alter the weather, sending
punishing winds and bolts of lightning crashing down upon her enemies.
Mister Fantastic (my old college nickname) can bend and stretch his body
like taffy. And the Invisible Woman can, well, turn herself invisible.
It was probably a good idea for the folks at Marvel Comics to give the
invisibility power to a woman. Judging by my own conversations, men are
not to be trusted with this ability.
One
of my favorite characters (yes, I’m still talking about this) is
Mystique. She’s a villain, but she’s got one of the coolest superpowers
ever conceived: She can morph her body into other peoples’ forms. It’s
called “shapeshifting.” Oh, she wants to sneak undetected into the
Capitol building in Washington? Poof! Now she looks like Senator John
McCain. She wants to go completely incognito as someone wholly
unrecognizable to the general public? Poof! Now she looks like Pauly
Shore.
Let’s explore the possibilities of this intoxicating talent, shall we?
Right
off the bat I’ll admit that, if I woke up one morning with this power, I
would immediately set to work abusing it in the most disgusting and
morally depraved ways possible. It’s at this point that I have to be
vague, because if I went into it in even the most basic detail, I would
soon have an editor standing over my desk with her arms crossed, slowly
shaking her head until I felt the appropriate level of shame. Let’s
leave it at this: Brad Pitt is hosting a party at my apartment tonight,
and he’s newly unattached. Bring wine.
As
with many of these outlandish skills, though, the possibilities of
shapeshifting are virtually endless, and aren’t just confined to
bamboozling people for creepy purposes. Figuring out a Halloween
costume, for example, would be a cinch. Forget the clichéd rubber Nixon
mask; in two seconds flat you could actually become
Nixon. On a day-to-day basis, the changes wouldn’t
have to be that dramatic. You could keep your face, which most people
consider central to their identities, and simply use the shapeshifting
power as a weight loss tool, shaving inches off your waistline even as
you inhale buckets of ice cream and chase it with cake frosting. That’s
where things start getting dangerous, though. Personally, I’d eat like I
had a week left to live, until I got super sick, at which point a
doctor would tell me I had a week left to live. Then I’d shapeshift into
his boss and fire him.
Telepathy,
pyrokinesis, X-ray vision, super strength; either the creative
divisions of the major comic book companies reek heavily of reefer, or
the artists who work on these demigods never quite let go of their
childhood imaginations – preferring laser-beam shooting, fire-breathing,
car-throwing absurdities to anything even approaching adult maturity. I
used to be closeted in my geeky appreciation for this stuff. Then
technology made it possible for movie studios to crank out hero flicks
that, amazingly, aren’t embarrassing. That’s when I found out I’m not
alone; that there are plenty of grown men and women who are still
endlessly adjusting their inner glasses. Suddenly it’s okay to be
childish. And why not? Adult life is hard. Talking to friends about how
cool it’d be if I could shoot dragon flames out of my butt serves as a
nice escape.
One
more thing I’d do if I could fly: Speed beside an airborne commercial
plane and moon all the passengers. Bet Superman never thought of that one.
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