Column: Al Batt, Tales from Exit 22

“The Graduate” is a wonderful movie. In it, the hero, Benjamin Braddock, played by Dustin Hoffman, received a single word of career advice from a family friend, “Plastics.” This counsel hinted at a life of certain success.

My mother never saw the movie, but she did go to back-to-school sales in order to clothe me properly while I attended grade school. The best price one year was on a winter combo: mittens, a hat with oversized earlaps and a winter coat—all with a rubbery plastic exterior.

My mother presented the ensemble to me with all the fanfare she could muster. I wore the outfit to school. No one pointed and snickered. The coat was lightweight and the mittens were cool in a goofy way. The hat was OK. I had already grasped the truism that the way to survive a Minnesota winter is to dress like a dork.

Life was good. Then it turned cold. It had to — it was January. We had a cold snap. That’s what everyone called it. It was cold, but it didn’t make life a snap. School went on as usual. No frigid weather was going to keep us from becoming educated.

After we’d devoured a delicious and nutritious lunch of beanie weenies (baked beans surrounding highly outnumbered slices of wieners), we went outside for recess. There was snow on the ground, so we made snow angels, snowmen and snow forts. We played games passed down from prior generations.

Then the cold snap snapped again. The temperature dropped. A neighbor said that the mercury fell an inch below the thermometer. Weather has a mean streak.

My life changed, right in the middle of a spirited game of fox and geese. Suddenly, I moved with all of the grace of a knight in rusty armor. I was the Michelin Man. I walked like someone in a skit on the old “Benny Hill Show.” I was a bad float in a tiny version of a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. My plastic coat had begun to freeze.

The school bell rang. I tottered to the hallowed halls where students disassembled. Boots, rubbers, coats, scarves, sweaters, gloves, mittens and hats were removed. Pupils diminished in size just enough to fit into the seats attached to small desks.

As was my habit, I tossed my stiff and wet clothing onto the radiator to dry.

While I was immersed in the mysteries of vocabulary, my teacher sprung a new word on me.

“Yecchhh! What is that terrible odor?” she said.

It was the smell of my new plastic coat melting on the radiator.

I grabbed the coat. It looked as if a gang of steam irons had assaulted it. I wore it all winter.

The news from Hartland

News travels fast. When someone sneezes in Hartland, someone in the township says, “Gesundheit.” Here are the latest headlines from our friend Hartland Harold:

At the Grab N Gulp, the catch of the day is that annoying mouse that was trapped in the kitchen. The special is a tomato juice sandwich — the world’s dampest sandwich. Remember, if you want water, it’s in the coffee.

Marlon Brandy discovers how the Mercedes bends after he hits a deer with his new luxury car.

Nudist colony closure covers a multitude of skins.

Fantasy Snowball League begins.

Did you know?

The Grand Canyon is so large that two Grand Canyons would fit inside it.

Rhode Island is so small that it is barely as large as Rhode Island.

The snow we receive each winter is directly proportional to the number of times “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” airs on TV.

According to a new study, an estimated 35 percent of food in the U.S. goes to waste. The rest goes to waist.

Ask Al

The customers of this column ask the greatest questions. I provide answers.

“Is there such a number as a killion?” There is, but writing it out numerically could kill you.

“What do you call birdseed with pepper on it?” Chirpotle.

“Has it become windier since all the wind turbines were erected?” Yes. They produce wind in order to produce electricity.

“Why are so many deer hit by cars?” Deer are fast foods that aren’t fast enough.

“My butcher stands 5 feet 11 inches tall, wears a 42-regular jacket, and his feet are size 10. What do you think he weighs?” Meat.

“I have a unique caged bird that has escaped. How I might recover him?” To catch a unique bird, unique up on him. If he is tame, you catch him the tame way.

“What sound does your can opener make?” Apparently, it says “meow.”

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.