I left for Montreal on the 7AM flight yesterday. I was certain that the man across from me was a super villain. He had the wardrobe and the “look.” He was bald, middle-aged, wore all black, and had multiple piercings in his ears. He regarded the world with a sort of squint-eyed wariness through his frameless designer glasses. The clincher was that he walked with a limp, and used a cane made of transparent plastic. Transparent plastic! Who–other than a super villain–would have such panache?!

I wondered what kind of dastardly deeds he was up to on his trip to Montreal. Was he planning a great poutine poisoning? What type of terror was he set to unleash upon the unwitting world? What could I do to stop him? Could I find a shallow pool of water in which to throw his transparent cane, so he couldn’t see it, rendering him immobile?

Thankfully, I didn’t have to act on my misgivings. I began to doubt his super-villainy when he pulled out a book entitled “How to Make Money Teaching Music.” It’s a well-known fact that super-villains and music teachers are practically indistinguishable. It’s like trying to tell the difference between the kind of seagull with the poisonous beak, and the kind without. It’s nearly impossible without a field guide. My confirmation of his non-villain status came when he started listening to his pink iPod Nano. Not even a super-villain would use a pink iPod Nano. The world is safe for another day at least.