How can you tell?
I thought Californians spent their time in such a state of bliss that recognising conflict, contrariness, combativeness, imbalance, negative auras or whatever was quite beyond their ken. You know, the golden land of, "Whatever, Dude..."
I don't spend a lot of time obsessing about actors playing dress-up. If one wants to roll down Sunset in an up-armored Hummer and the next in a Prius, followed by some fool riding a Harley without a helmet, should this be a matter of deep concern to me? Here it was simply that Mr Travolta chose to appear upon the aviation scene, when I just had to pipe up with my carping about his near-total lack of formal qualifications, since some of the easily-fooled really do think that he's fully qualified because of the shiny gold braid and the shiny airplane too. ("You mean that Qantas just gave him the uniform of a four-striper to wear despite his not holding a professional licence? How can that be?" Well, I guess you better buy a copy of Dianetics and read it closely, for the sub-text, to figure this one out.)
I am now off on a new topic, the fortunes of the North Korean football team, led as they are by another sort of L. Ron Hubbard figure, Kim Jong Il but not so very ill, feeling better already in fact.
You go back to grazing upon the lotus and I promise to leave JT and his shiny toy in peace until the next time he wafts onto the world stage trailing clouds of glory and unburnt Jet A. Haiti, South Africa, where next? Well, anywhere with about ten thousand feet of paved runway, I guess!