It's a Plane

S: I’m actually a little talked out from that last speech.

ID: Yeah, I thought that might happen, so I came prepared to start over.

S: Oh no.

ID: Yep. Origin story. Well, sort of. I want to talk about your first “appearance,” as it were. Do you need me to refresh your memory, or

S: The plane, yeah.

ID: My first question’s kind of easy- you weren’t a superhero, then. There really wasn’t such a thing as superheroes, really. So what was with the long underwear?

S: The cape was actually a red cloak, one of the family heirlooms my parents sent me to Earth with, wrapped in, like a blanket, with the family crest on the back in gold.

ID: So your father sent his only begotten son in swaddling cloth to watch over humanity...

S: Don't even start with that. It's not funny.

Anyway, as a kid, I was never any kind of a “Superboy,” so I didn’t have a costume or anything- I mean, I’d help people sometimes, but it was always about flying below the radar and trying to blend in and go back to being normal after that- which, now that I think on it, probably didn’t work so well. I mean, my hometown was a small, small town, where everybody knew your name, your daddy’s name, and what he did for a living. I imagine a lot of folks knew who I was back then, but bless them nobody ever said a word- even years later, when I imagine there would have been some big tabloid dollars for their stories. But college was really where I got my footing. My senses kept expanding, just as my other abilities did, and it got to a point where there was no avoiding the fact that I had to use what I could do to help people.

Well Lana, a, uh, friend from back then, one time, eating dinner with us back at the farm, accidentally let slip about some of my do-gooding, and mom couldn’t let it go. I think she’d been watching too many sci-fi shows, and decided I needed some kind of a policeman uniform- only far less conservative. And it was just incredibly sweet of her, but she sewed me this costume, using the red and gold from the blanket, and adding in blue, I think because she wanted to make sure I seemed patriotic and noble to the people I met, to help them trust me- and blue is of course the classic police uniform color. Of course, I didn’t wear it- I mean, it was kind of silly. But it was also sweet, and I kept it, all through college. It was really hard to explain to girls uh, friends, when they’d see it hanging in my dormroom closet.

But when I graduated, I got hired on to work at the Daily Planet in Metropolis. I attended this get-to-know-you luncheon, and shook hands with everybody. Perry White was just one of those terse but friendly old-reporter-types you sometimes run into in the business, you know, guys who grew up with ink on their fingers. Jimmy didn’t work there at the time, but I think his uncle or cousin, something, did, though he was kind of a useless drunk by then. He’d hire on freelance photographers, pretty girls if he could find them, and skim part of the fee off their photos while passing them off to Perry as his own work. But I got to meet Lois, and we talked for all of three minutes, during which time she came up with no less than five diminutive nicknames for me, all based roughly around my hometown.

But the next day I was settling into my apartment. I heard the first boom of this experimental jet, different from a normal jet, and that got me to the window. Then I heard the second boom, and saw the wing strut tear. I knew, I knew I couldn’t just fly out of my window as Clark Kent, but it’s not like I lived above a costume shop, or even had kept my graduation robes (I rented them), but on top of my clothes box, folded very neatly, was that uniform mom sewed with a note pinned to the chest that said, “Wear it with pride, Mom”. And I glanced out the window again, and the plane was already going down- I didn’t have time for modesty. I dressed and leapt out the window. I managed to set the plane down safely, and there was a moment where Lois caught my eyes through one of the windows, and the look she gave me, it’s the look every man wants to get, it’s admiration, and intrigue, and affection with a hint of lust beneath. At that moment I realized what that look might do to me in my skintight uniform, so I flew away.

But the most embarrassing thing was I got back to the apartment, my heart racing, as much from seeing Lois look at me that way as from saving an experimental plane-load of reporters, and I looked down, and the note, from my mother, “Wear it with pride, Mom,” was still pinned to my chest. Can you think of anything worse?

ID: I guess your pants could have come down.

S: “Flasher saves Plane.” Barry and Wally would have had to use different names. Maybe Lightningmen or something. But sure enough, the next day, blurry pictures of me in my mom’s science fiction police uniform were on the front page of every paper in the city. And Lana showed up at my apartment, with a copy of the front page, her sewing kit and the biggest grin on her face. This was before she became a famous fashion designer, but she said if I was determined to spend my time in garish clothing, at least it could be professionally sewn. And, you know, after Lana had taken a whack at it, I sort of, liked the design my mom had come up with, and, I suppose, truth be told, I liked the way it had made Lois look at me.

ID: That explains most of it, actually, but what about the glasses?

S: The glasses were mom’s idea, too. She wore glasses, and… well, I knew I’d messed up. I mean, I worked with Lois, and she was bound to recognize my face. I could comb my hair differently, but what else was I going to do? Wear a mask into the office. Cake on make-up? Glasses were the best solution we could think of, and I started with these just ridiculous Coke-bottle lenses that made me look like a mole. I figured between those and steering clear of Lois, that would be enough, at least until her fascination with her “Superman” ended. But of course I never took into account that she’d fall in love with him, or that I’d fall in love with her. The best laid plans, and all that. Still, for all of the self-consciousness, and silliness throughout the years, I wouldn't change any of it, because, I'm proud of how everything has turned out, and happy with the life I've got.

We’ll be trying to bring you a new section to the interview every Monday. Some of the questions have already been prepared by the interviewer, but to ask Superman a question, leave a comment or send an email to DeathofSuperman@gmail.com.