Coffee, Tea…Or Reality TV!

          Meet America’s newest hero, Jet Blue Airlines flight attendant Steven Slater. 

          So what did Mr. Slater do to become America’s newest folk hero?  Did he help Captain Sully make an emergency landing on the Hudson River?  Did he foil a hijacking attempt?  Put out a terrorist’s shoe?  Did he do the Heimlich Maneuver and save the life of a passenger who was choking on a bag of airline peanuts?  No, he didn’t do any of those things.

          What he did was grab the microphone of the plane’s public address system, curse out a disruptive passenger, snatch a beer from a service cart, and then open an aircraft door and slide down an emergency chute.            

          Fortunately the Jet Blue plane was not in the air when Mr. Slater slipped slided away to his 15 minutes of fame.              

          And here’s my prediction.  He will soon have his own realty T.V. show, The Real Flight Attendants of New Jersey.

          When I was a boy, I had lots of heroes.  They generally fit into one or two categories: cowboys or professional athletes.

          The cowboys who were my heroes included Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Matt Dillon, Chuck “The Rifleman” Connors, and Ben, Hoss, Adam, and Little Joe Cartwright.

          My sports heroes included Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, Johnnie Unitas, Bob Gibson and Roger Staubach.

          What these heroes of my youth had in common was that they each accomplished something very positive.  The cowboy shot bad guys.  Mickey and Willie hit homeruns.  Johnny and Roger threw touchdown passes while Bob threw strikes.

          But in 21st Century America, our new heroes are neither cowboys nor athletes.  They are “celebrities.”  Worse yet, you become a celebrity in America these days not by doing something good, but by doing something outrageous.

          You scream out obscenities and walk or slide off your job, and suddenly you are one of the most popular people in America.

          Crash a White House party, and instead of being arrested by the Secret Service, you’ll be the star in your own reality T.V. Show.              

          Two years ago, Sarah Palin was an unknown Governor of Alaska, trying to balance the state budget and shoot grizzly bears that attacked the state capitol.  And then John McCain asked her to run for Vice President of the United States.   Fortunately for then-Governor Palin, the McCain-Palin ticket didn’t win.  Had it done so, we never would have heard from her again.  It’s like the old joke about the woman who had two sons.  One joined the Navy and was lost at sea.  The other was elected Vice President of the United States, and neither was ever heard from again.

          As it turned out, Sarah Palin became something much more important than a Vice President or a Governor, or, for that matter, a President.  She became a celebrity.  She quit her job as Governor and is now making megabucks giving speeches and writing books, and she will soon star in her own reality T.V. show, The Real Housewives of Wasilla.

          And she’s not the only member of the Palin family who has achieved celebrity status.  Her daughter Bristol, and her baby daddy Levi Johnston, (a/k/a “Ricky Hollywood”) have also become national celebrities, and their on-again, off-again romance will also soon land them a reality T.V. show, The Real Mommas and Baby Daddies of Alaska.

          Welcome to 21st Century celebrity-worshipping America, where no bad deed goes unrewarded.  Go on a public tirade, quit your job (whether you are a flight attendant or governor), and be willing to publicly make an ass out of yourself, and you’ll soon become a cult hero.

          Only balloon boy’s daddy struck out in this endeavor, but that’s only because he did not actually put little balloon boy in the balloon.  He just faked it.  Had he actually jeopardized the life of little balloon boy by floating him off into the cosmos, he would now join Levi Johnston as one of America’s Great Dads.

          While I’m no saint, I have tried for the most part to do the right thing over the years as a husband, father, and lawyer.  But staying married, attending all those piano recitals and soccer games, and going to the office every day has gotten me absolutely no where in life.  I am nobody’s hero.

          In the words of the great philosopher Leo Durocher, nice guys finish last.

          And so, I am about to make a career move.  No more Mr. Nice Guy Lawyer.  The next time I’m in a courtroom, I’m going to yell out a string of obscenities at the judge and the jury, pull a beer out of my briefcase, jump out the courthouse window, and slide down an emergency chute.  I’ll then get in a hot air balloon with Lindsey Lohan and fly to Washington, where Lindsey and I will crash a White House party.

          You can watch it all on my new T.V. show, The Real Lawyers of Memphis.