Jun. 8, 2006 – Originally published by CNC, Inc.
Dateline: Strawberries Parking Lot

Rescuing Neil Young From Cellophane Helplessness

Is it just me, or has everyone noticed that everything in life is harder to open these days? Packaging has become so "person-proof" that you need to factor in an additional half-hour or so to open whatever it is you’re trying to use.

For example, take CDs; the best example of "over-proofing." Now, as a case in point, last week I was on my way for a quick trip out of state to see my old college friend Rick, and I thought that before I left town I would pick up a CD to enjoy on the drive - something old, to remind me of all those good times we had that I can’t remember. So, I went with Neil Young’s "Harvest" circa 1972 (critically important - it was old when I was in college!) and babbled on to the clerk as she rang up my purchase. "I remember listening to this driving around in a Chevy Rambler...I remember thinking Neil Young was a prophet...I remember wondering if the meaning of life was to be happy or if it was to be free..." She responded to this scintillating one-sided conversation by yawning and checking out her nose-ring in the mirror. I got back in my car, all packed up for the trip, and began to open the CD.

Right off, I couldn’t even get the plastic wrap to begin peeling away from the CD case. "It’s okay, just about to hear some Neil Young, ready to rock on out of Massachusetts," I said out loud to myself, taking my car key out of the ignition and attempting to slice through the cellophane with a key. No go. (Do I have dull keys?) So, I decided to just bang on the CD with my key, which did crack the CD case right away, but did nothing to disturb the cellophane wrap. "Okay, Neil, dying to hear your reflections on your times, I’ll have you out of there in a second," I muttered, starting to sweat because the keys were now lost under my seat so my air conditioning wasn’t on.

Finally, I opened the cellophane with a credit card (expired - wasn’t buyin’ no gas or cheese nabs for the trip with that!) and yelled "Tah-dah!" into the sweatbox that was now my car - the windows were fogged from my own frustrated heavy breathing at this point.

Next, you have to pry open a security strip on the CD, whose existence I think is pointless because any CD thief would have by this time beaten himself to death with handfuls of DVDs right there in Strawberry’s after the cellophane ordeal. As I was trying to get the security strip to peel away from the spine of the CD case, my cell phone rang. I grabbed it from my purse, but couldn’t answer it because it was in its protective case (to protect me from receiving calls, apparently) and I couldn’t wrangle it out. I hit it once with the "Harvest" CD just for fun and tossed it back in my purse. I got out my bottle of Tylenol to try to take a few for my emerging headache, but it had never been opened, and I couldn’t mentally deal with prying the protective cover off the top of the bottle so I threw it in the glove box and continued working on my CD.

"Neil Young, I can’t rescue you!" I cried out, almost sobbing now, with throbbing, swollen fingers and a surface body temp of about 100 degrees. I wiped my brow with my handwritten map, smearing all the highway numbers and all routes I would need to take, and waved through a tiny circle I had cleared on my windshield at the clerk, who was now coming off her shift. "I just want to hear Neil Young," I whispered to no one in particular, ankles bathed in cellophane, CD battered - yet still unopened - in my bruised hand. My phone rang again - probably Rick, checking on my ETA... would have to try to explain that I was delayed because I couldn’t open a CD... and suddenly, my fingernail slipped under the security strip, and I was home free! "Neil, Neil," I chuckled maniacally to myself, freeing Neil Young from his CD case and popping the CD into the CD player.

So, I drove triumphantly out of town listening to a very appropriate song I think, Neil Young’s "Helpless." I guess sometimes art really does imitate life!