your life is now dependent on physics

A few thoughts about flying that I wrote while flying:


I was sitting in my JUST BIG ENOUGH TO FIT ME coach seat and was thinking that They could make the seats just a little bigger. Then a thought hit me. Maybe the seats used to be smaller, before some go-getter came up with the idea of making THOSE EVEN SMALLER SEATS a little bigger. There's a little something to chew on.


If I thought about flying more I would be terrified of it. Of course I'm writing the basis of this whole article as the plane is getting ready to take off. It's great to think about your plane crashing moments before it leaves the ground. What a jackass I am. Next time I'm on a plane, I'm writing about strong eagles, hawks, and the mightiest of the flying creatures, dragons (or that thing from The Neverending Story).


As the plane was taxiing, the pilot was whipping the aircraft around the corners pretty quickly. Just like in the newest Grand Theft Auto video game (I assumed, playing the video game, that real planes could not be treated in such a fashion). That connection was a little scary, because while the planes in the video game can be handled like sports cars, they also explode pretty easily.


I noticed taking off and landing (In two different states) that there a number of new housing developments going up. Even from 5,000 feet (or however high the plane was) the developments looked like a bum place to live. Then I thought, to top it all off, the developments are going to be under the airplane landing paths.


The flight attendant always asks the people sitting in the exit rows if they feel comfortable sitting there.

These are not the people they should be asking.

Instead, the flight attendants should take a quick poll of the aircraft, Raise your hand if YOU feel comfortable placing YOUR lives in these people's hands. Or, If quick decisive action is necessary for YOU to continue living, are YOU sure the person sitting in 8-A can perform such action?

I was not sitting in the exit row, ie: THE FIRST TO SURVIVE THE CRASH ROW, but I took a look at the safety book anyway. There were three different types of hatches on my plane, which sat a maximum of 48 people.

Three hatches.

Three hatches, all with different types of handles and mechanisms. I look at the people in the exit rows; they looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place them.

I gave it some more thought and a bell went off in my head. I HAD seen the people in the exit rows before, but not at the airport.

I've seen them at the U-Scan checkout at the grocery store. The U-Scan lane, which is a mystery to way too many people. The U-Scan lane where people struggle to follow instructions like, If you have any coupons scan them now, or please show your ID to the cashier, or please place your item in the bagging area.

These are most certainly not the people I want fidgeting with the escape handles, as the plane is sinking in a burning, oil covered lake while the cabin fills with smoke and people crush the skulls of the elderly to the escape hatch.

The same escape hatch, mind you, that is being operated by the guy who can't find a bar code on their ready-to-grill shis-ka-bob kit that they picked up from the deli. That's the guy in charge of saving my life? Really?

Titles for Books I have no intention of writing

Stop Talking to Me

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