I almost died this week.
Emotionally.
Physically.
It started with a pleasant meal over the Atlantic, during which I engaged in a quiet, private viewing of Happy Feet. I actually cried a little at the end when Mambo and his dad started dancing; that little radio antenna swaying back and forth on his back. *sniff*
Not having much else to do, I decided to watch The Last King of Scotland, which completely killed the happy buzz I was riding in on from Happy Feet. I mean the way he hung his young physician friend from the nipples there near the end, that was just fu*ked up.
Feeling emotionally disheveled, I decided to recline my first-class suite into the flat bed it was designed to recline in to, and treat myself to an afternoon nap. Who was I to have short, intermittent, age-appropriate dreams about, but my seat neighbor, one Bob Inglis, your local Congressman representing Upstate South Carolina’s Fourth District. Whatever the hell that means. Quite a striking fella though. Very pleasant and always had a smile. Quick and polite during our brief discourse.
But what emotional roller coaster ride would be complete without a plane crash? Nearly ours. Upon final approach into Washington Dulles Monday afternoon, it became clear that God doesn’t like airplanes with Government officials aboard. Also, it was a wiiiiiiiindy bitch outside. Whatever pilots do to keep planes straight in the wind wasn’t doing. At about 300 feet or so, we bank hard left, putting only brown trees and power lines in my field of vision.
Being clearly able to make out the details of the tree trunks below, it became evident that we weren’t turning. Loosing altitude, yes, but not turning. Then, just as I thought I saw the concrete runway below, we bank hard right, the earth below me disappearing and nothing but grey sky filling my window.
What side of the airplane hit the ground first, I can’t quite recall. And if I was shrieking like a Ross Geller impersonating a shrieking school girl, I am sorry. But next thing I knew, the entire airplane broke out in applause, and we rolled safely to a stop. Thanks United Airlines. Thanks for a wonderful dinner. Thanks for wonderful First-Class service. Thanks for teaching your pilots whatever the hell it is you teach them.
So yeah United, thanks.
Emotionally.
Physically.
It started with a pleasant meal over the Atlantic, during which I engaged in a quiet, private viewing of Happy Feet. I actually cried a little at the end when Mambo and his dad started dancing; that little radio antenna swaying back and forth on his back. *sniff*
Not having much else to do, I decided to watch The Last King of Scotland, which completely killed the happy buzz I was riding in on from Happy Feet. I mean the way he hung his young physician friend from the nipples there near the end, that was just fu*ked up.
Feeling emotionally disheveled, I decided to recline my first-class suite into the flat bed it was designed to recline in to, and treat myself to an afternoon nap. Who was I to have short, intermittent, age-appropriate dreams about, but my seat neighbor, one Bob Inglis, your local Congressman representing Upstate South Carolina’s Fourth District. Whatever the hell that means. Quite a striking fella though. Very pleasant and always had a smile. Quick and polite during our brief discourse.
But what emotional roller coaster ride would be complete without a plane crash? Nearly ours. Upon final approach into Washington Dulles Monday afternoon, it became clear that God doesn’t like airplanes with Government officials aboard. Also, it was a wiiiiiiiindy bitch outside. Whatever pilots do to keep planes straight in the wind wasn’t doing. At about 300 feet or so, we bank hard left, putting only brown trees and power lines in my field of vision.
Being clearly able to make out the details of the tree trunks below, it became evident that we weren’t turning. Loosing altitude, yes, but not turning. Then, just as I thought I saw the concrete runway below, we bank hard right, the earth below me disappearing and nothing but grey sky filling my window.
What side of the airplane hit the ground first, I can’t quite recall. And if I was shrieking like a Ross Geller impersonating a shrieking school girl, I am sorry. But next thing I knew, the entire airplane broke out in applause, and we rolled safely to a stop. Thanks United Airlines. Thanks for a wonderful dinner. Thanks for wonderful First-Class service. Thanks for teaching your pilots whatever the hell it is you teach them.
So yeah United, thanks.
