Keanu Reeves answered Stephen Colbert‘s question succinctly and gracefully. Everyone including Colbert approved, but of course KR sidestepped the question. Which struck me as a bit curious given a recollection that Reeves (a) has previously shared heavy-mystical-cat views about the scheme of things (or so I recall) and (b) played Siddartha in a Bertolucci film so he’s been down to the bottom of that well.

HE’s stock reply: “Life is a fountain, and each of us is a drop of water. The fountain shoots us out and we rise gloriously into the air, and then we fall back into the pool and get sucked down and then shoot out again. Okay, some water drops aren’t so glorious but it’s nonetheless a divine, infinite process.”

When the kids were young and asking these kinds of questions I used to say that when we die we become a baby again, except we never remember this. Well, every now and then some claim to.

HE’s Stockholm-to-Nice flight touched down at 9:30 pm, or a half-hour later than scheduled. Plus 25 minutes in front of the luggage carousel. I couldn’t locate the 15-euro bus, which usually takes 45 or 50 minutes. So I took Jordan Ruimy‘s advice and dragged my luggage down to the Gare de Nice-Saint-Augustin, which began operations in 1864. The hike took a little more than 15 minutes. Lots of twists and turns and fast-car-dodging, but I managed. The train ride was free — nary a conductor in sight.

My LAX-to-Stockholm flight was a typical 10-hour int’l flight, which is to say uncomfortable and interminable. A grim-up endurance test. Can you take it? Can you steel yourself and suffer through with grace and aplomb?

What made it especially bad was the absence of wi-fi. What airline doesn’t offer in-flight connectivity these days? Norwegian plans to join the club sometime next year, but for now Type-A passengers looking to file stories during a trans-oceanic flight are fucked.

It’s 4:52 pm, and I’m waiting to board the 6 pm Nice flight. And having gotten a grand total of 90 minutes of shut-eye, I’m starting to droop. I know this drill backwards and forwards. I’ll crash on the flight, and when I finally get to the Cannes apartment this evening I won’t be able to sleep.

Stockholm Arlanda is seemingly waaay out in the country. No sprawling suburbs or congested business strips nearby — just mile upon square mile of birch and pine trees, like you’re flying into Savannah. An unusually attractive airport setting. Not oversized, mellow vibe.

Plus it’s also somewhat pleasant to be around all these attractive Swedish people with their Nordic features, blonde hair (although black hair is equally plentiful) and relatively trim physiques. If you’ve done any travelling over the last 10 or 15 years you know that Jabbas are ubiquitious in U.S. airports, but there are almost none here. So it’s a nice place to hang.

During the flight I watched Dog Day Afternoon (’75), and spotted “Tony Lip” — i.e., Anthony Vallelonga, the real-life character who was portrayed by Viggo Mortensen in Green Book. Dog Day Lip is playing a plainclothes detective. He’s glimpsed at the end of the climactic JFK tarmac sequence, or right after John Cazale‘s “Sal” has been shot in the forehead by Lance Henricksen. (Spoiler!).