Sunday, September 23, 2012

Funky Sky Capsule

   I’m not a fan of flying. Strange perhaps, since I love roller coasters, but it is what it is. I think flying should be left to the birds (I don’t even think bats do it very well). There is something about the complete loss of control that makes flying lose it’s appeal. Even if I were the one piloting the plane, should something go wrong, I won’t sprout wings and soar among the clouds. I’m not in control of the roller coaster either...and should it go off the track, the chances of survival aren’t good. However, should it simply stop and refuse to operate, I could probably climb down or be rescued. Put a plane in that scenario, while it’s in flight....and the prognosis is still fatal. With all this self-imposed stress, I don’t need any added unpleasantness. Funny how sometimes you don’t get what you need...or what you want, at the same time. flying isn’t for me, and I consider it a personal accomplishment to have gotten on a plane this summer. It takes me a state of extreme concentration and acceptance of the possible consequences of flying to make me comfortable enough for the trip. The last thing I need is a passenger with no regard for the other passengers...or my personal battle with the statistically safest way to travel. I mean...there have been bathrooms on planes for a very long time now, and the plane wasn’t taking off or landing to prevent free movement within. So I fail to understand the need for such a deadly assault.

   I thought there were supposed to be sky marshals on the planes why wasn’t an arrest made? Wait...I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me back up and detail the heinous crime of which I speak. So...there I am, making peace with my maker fully expecting the plane to experience terrible turbulence followed by all the horrible scenes I’ve watched in movies of planes going down...when I get punched in the nose! It’s not as bad as it was much worse! I would have loved for it to have been a fist that hit me, instead it was the digested residue of a very inconsiderate....and probably very ill (judging by the odor) passenger, breaking every public health ordinance in every state we passed through.

   You’re probably laughing right about now...but there is nothing funny about weaponized gas. Even looking back on the event months later doesn’t inspire humor at being exposed to an odor so foul, it made the magazines rumple. The ice in my ginger ale melted immediately...and my peanuts wilted. As I sat in amazement at all the chemical changes happening around me, oblivious of the slow death I was experiencing, other passengers began to get very vocal about having their life expectancy reduced by fifteen years. Some expressed a desire for the guilty party to come forward, but threats of death made this the longest of long shots.
   The insanity of it all...being trapped in a pressurized capsule, with a living devouring gas wreaking havoc without mercy. The depravity of the scene had me half expecting to turn and see the maniacal grin of the clown prince of crime (The Joker) telling me that Batman wouldn’t be in time to preserve what was left of my degenerating brain cells ceased to exist by the hundreds of thousands, with every breath. It was a nightmare, but I wasn’t on Elm Street...and if Freddie ever slept, this is what would wake him in terror. was that bad.

   My analytical mind couldn’t help but wonder what the perpetrator had eaten...alive, that then died and quickly decomposed in their stomach. I thought perhaps they came across some week old roadkill before boarding the plane, and thought “well, nobody else is eating it.” I wondered if they weren’t really a person, but an escaped science experiment designed to look like a person...and we were all guinea pigs for the next phase of warfare. All the time I spent dreading the plane going down...only to find myself wishing it would crash to end the torture.

   I wish I could say this story ended well...but it didn’t. We all inhaled, choked, gasped and swore...until it was all gone.

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