Next week I leave.  On an airplane.

This?  Is where I convulse, shake uncontrollably, and then vomit on my keyboard.

I just don’t think it’s natural for things to be floating in the air.

Back in the 80’s, when the news was all, we’re all gonna have flying cars by the year 2000, I was like, no thank you.

I’m scared enough driving on the road, the thought of driving in the air is out of the question.  I totally don’t even care if I am the only one who doesn’t have a floating car.  I’ll be like that weird neighbor who insists on riding his bike everywhere because he loves the earth more than you, and you fantasize about hitting him when you see him biking along the side of a major 5 lane highway, with his aerodynamic helmet and bicycle rear-view mirror, like some kind asshole.

I would have been that asshole.  Only with my old fashioned road car.  Not a bike.

Luckily, that never panned out.

Unfortunately, people are still relying on the whole experimental airplane thing to get places that are too far to walk or roller blade.

The level at which I freak out in the air?  EPIC.

And, that fact that everyone else is totally calm on the plane only aggravates me more.  They are reading magazines, or listening to walkmans (fyi, haven’t flown since the 90s), or just sleeping.  Like, restful sleep, not I AM GOING TO FUCKING DIE sleep.

The stewardesses just walk up and down the aisles like NOTHING is wrong.  Like we aren’t going against nature in this giant flying tube.  They are all like, can I get you soda and trail mix, and I am like, is that going to save me when we fall from the sky in a burning ball of twisted metal?  How about you get me a fucking lawyer to write my fucking will and a bottle of whiskey?

And then, for the rest of the flight, they talk to me in this weird sing-song child voice, because I have been added to the list.  The handle with care she is gonna freak the fuck out and we will have to shoot her before she brings the plane down list.

Which totally happens, by the way.  When I was little, I watched a movie called International Velvet, and when they were shipping the horses overseas by plane, one of the horses started flipping out mid air, and they had to shoot it.  It was bananas.

So now, I feel like I am living on borrowed time, and the hell if I am not going to make the most of it.

Which is totally pissing Andy off because the house is a mess and I haven’t done dishes or laundry in a week.

And, I understand it can be annoying, because who likes fruit flies, but Jesus Christ.  I am about to fly in an airplane and probably die.

Why would I want my last memories on Earth to be of me cleaning things?

If I die, I am going out with pretty painted toenails and a belly full of hostess cupcakes.

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