With that part of the problem solved, I now had 100 boxes of cereal in my car to contend with. In the warm Southern California sun, that new car smell had begun to be replaced with the sickly sweet smell of toasted wheat, whole wheat with crunchy fiber, strawberry and raisin filling, and whatever those gooey yellow things are that stick to your teeth in Mueslix.
By now I had told some friends and family what I had done. They greeted this news with long silences. No, my brother didn't want any cereal, and he would not ask his co-workers whether they wanted some either. I considered carting a trunkful to Phoenix for Thanksgiving for my mother to hawk to her bridge friends, but now I just wanted to be rid of those boxes. It was like driving the streets with a dead body in the trunk, only weirder. Driving in downtown Los Angeles, I spotted a Salvation Army store. The organization would love a donation of cereal, it turned out. I unloaded the goods and was later sent a receipt for a tax deduction.
While the blisters on my hand healed, I took time out during the next two weeks to check out JAL's Web site. Under "Our Aircrafts" was the seat plan of the 747 I would be on: 315 coach seats crammed side by side and only 78 spacious, inviting business-class seats, of which I had one. Besides just getting my ticket, I was now getting to fly business class instead of coach. For twenty hours of flight time trapped in the cabin of a plane traveling halfway around the globe, this could be well worth the upgrade adventure.
Finally on board the plane, stretched out in my comfy seat, I was awakened by the flight attendant asking whether I wanted a Japanese or Western breakfast.
"What's your Western breakfast?" I asked.
"Cereal," she said—Kellogg's Product 19.
Who could resist the fruits of my labor?
PREVIOUS PAGE
