What happened was that bandaged dude stood up at the front of the plane and ripped off his YOU SHOULD SEE THE OTHER GUY t-shirt and underneath was one that said HOST WITH THE MOST.

Then, he unraveled his bandages, layer after layer, revealing a blast from my past shouting, “Ta-dah!”

Yes, bandaged dude was none other than Franklin J. Adams, my old friend/nemesis.

Smiling 1000 watts, he said, “Good evening, ladies and gentleman.” Opening his arms wide, he said, “I am about to change your lives forever.”

He told us to look at the people around us because they were our fellow contestants in a top-secret reality show. And the show was starting now. And it was “groundbreaking,” a “definite twist on the genre.” And the winner would be “beyond famous.”

Speaking, orating, performing, Franklin explained that little black boxes had been sent to households worldwide in the biggest mass mail out in history. Once set-up, the boxes were a direct link to the satellite dishes orbiting the earth, the ones transmitting all the raw footage from the show. Every camera’s feed. Every microphone’s audio. Viewers would be able to completely customize their experience, down to specific camera angles and shots. Or, if they wanted, they could rely on a series of “network” edited shows.

Even the advertisers could custom-build their campaigns, because depending on the particular advertiser linked with the particular black box, imbedded in the footage were exclusive digital ads promoting only their product or service.

And while our host spun those webs of sticky silk, cut to the faces of people Fascinated. Cut to Bewitched. Zoom into Charmed and Enchanted.

Get a wide-angle on that plane cabin and watch 32 reality TV personalities with flashing neon dollar signs for eyes. Sitting in our laps, dropped from the heavens above, was the kind of opportunity that came along never in a lifetime. And it was happening to us.

Say hello to a book deal.

Tip your hat to a movie-of-the-week.

Cozy up to a public appearance tour.

Prepare for global recognition, like installing a software update for an old application of fame.

Yes, that was looking to our right and left and suddenly everyone else on the plane was the person trying to take our place. Those spotlight junkies and applause thieves. Hijackers of emotional close-ups. Reaction shot cat burglars.

When Franklin finished his explanation there was silence, a reverential awe. And after the silence there was a round of applause, the boisterous, heartfelt kind usually reserved for TV audiences at tap dancing competitions for the mentally and physically challenged.

Then Franklin bowed.

And the clapping continued.

Then Franklin removed a gas mask from the overhead compartment.

And the clapping still continued.

Then Franklin put on the gas mask.

And the clapping slowed.

Then Franklin gave us 2 enthusiastic thumbs up.

And the clapping stopped.

Then someone coughed.

And Franklin waved goodbye.

Then gas poured out of the air vents.

And the last thing I remember thinking before passing out was “Did I see a trace of red lipstick on Franklin’s face?”