This is probably not the best week for me to read about any plane crashes. There were three crashes of note over the weekend. First was the single-engine that crashed into a cemetery in Butte, Montana, killing over a dozen. Second was the FedEx crash in Japan that killed its crew and packages. Third was the Air Force C-17 that reportedly crashed in Texas… I sayreportedly because the plane in question actually landed at Altus AFB in Oklahoma. That means the third crash never actually happened.
This week, for the first time since I was but a wee little tot, I will board a plane. With me still on board, that plane will ascend into the heavens. And it damn well better land with me in one living, breathing, mostly conscious piece.
Actually, I will board four planes. One headed to Houston, then one to Phoenix, then one to Albuquerque, then one home again, jiggety jig. That means four opportunities to be in the third newsworthy plane wreck inside a week or so.
I shall therefore prepare for the worst by writing a series of unfiltered, tell-all articles and programming my website to publish them in the weeks following my possible death. By planning to postmortemedly reveal my radical proposals for transforming the world, my true feelings about my family and friends, and the most shocking secrets from my sordid past, I ensure:
1. that none of my planes will crash;
2. that the weekend at Patton’s wedding and visiting my sister go flawlessly; and
3. that due to a computer glitch, I will be unable to stop my website from publishing those articles, thereby triggering unbearable humiliation far worse than death.
I need to find out what the A-Team kept putting in B.A.’s milk.
24 March 2009 9:30 pm
Just remember that if you’re stinking drunk they won’t let you on the plane. Xanax may help, if you want a pharmaceutical solution. You should be able to find a doctor that would prescribe it.
Or you can man up, you pansy.
26 March 2009 9:30 pm
ha, best solution the docs come up with yet!