Ok, so call me stupid, call me paranoid, but I am afraid. Sometime in the last 15 years or so I developed a fear of flying. Take off is the worst, but landing isn't too much better. When I was younger I loved to fly. The thrust of the engines as we took off was a rush. But then again, I also used to like carnival rides. Today, with the reality of death, real death, not so distant as it once was staring at me from its fathomless cowl I'm not so eager to hasten my shuffle off this mortal coil. So I am now quite drunk. Thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster for spell check or this post would be completely illegible. Anyway, I have a bottle of Xanax prepped for tomorrow's journey, and the tiny little rational part of my brain, the part that knows that the odds of my particular plane eating it are astronomical, tells me not to worry, but many times today I found myself wondering if this would be the last time I got to do this,that, and the other thing. Stupid? Yes. Oh well. Anyway, just in case we find out just how far underground a plane can go tomorrow, let me thank you all for coming by The Corner. I love you all, motherfuckers.(I told you I was drunk.) ;-)
Smoke me a kipper, I'll be home for breakfast!!
Ace Marius
1 comment:
Keep telling yourself that flying is fun! Or keep on drinking, but not too much so that they won't let you on the plane!
Hope you'll have a safe, uneventful flight!
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