Business Class: Latter Day Turbulence

If you are a filmmaker, actor, or swag-hungry hanger-on heading to Sundance next week, may I remind you that there is a more powerful God out there than Harvey Weinstein. Trey Parker, Matt Stone, Mitt Romney, and, to a lesser extent, Jon Huntsman, have gifted America a Mormon moment. But on a recent visit to Salt Lake City, I became aware of how little I understood the religion.

On my 7 a.m. flight from New York to Salt Lake City, seated among broad-shouldered men, blond, blue-eyed women, clusters of gentlemen clad in identical black-tie/white shirt combos, and groggy snowboarders, a sense of bliss was all-pervasive. This good vibe soon evaporated when I ordered a beer with breakfast. A judgmental silence engulfed the cabin, as deafening as if I had just pinched Gloria Steinem on the bum and called her “babe.” A steward returned, bearing my alcoholic beverage as gingerly as a hand grenade. “They are not so big on their alcohol where we are going,” my seatmate kindly explained. “Club soda, yes. And on a wild night, Fresca.” Eager to avoid any more faux pas before I even arrive, I mined my seatmate for hard information on the Latter Day Saints. He shrugged: “All I know is that Tom Cruise is one.”