Thursday, October 12, 2006

Plane Crazy

The good news is that the plane that hit the building in Manhattan wasn't terrorism, the bad news is that it was a Yankee. Normally, you won't find me sympathizing for the Yankees, at any given time. However, the circumstances of this event do call for sympathy as the man was just following his bliss and got a bliss-ter (heh) called death. My sympathy to his family and the flight instructor's family.

Before the events of 9-11, flying for me was a thrill. Not once did I allow my thoughts to think of terrorism or crashing. I was in a huge metal flying device and I didn't need to understand the physics of it all, I was in the clouds.

After 9-11, I thought my feelings would change and my neurotic nature would override any sensible thought, but that never happened. Honestly, I feel more at risk being poked and prodded by airport security not to mention the feeling of being exposed as they search my suitcase. I do understand why the have to do it, it's just that I know that my dainties don't have a cruel bone in them and if they had a bone of any kind in them, they're one bone ahead of me.

I would sooner fly a plane than drive a car, far less gridlock and less reason to shake the water bottle of shame (another story for another day) at any offender closing in on me, cutting me off, or dare to honk at the car I'm in. Flying defies what we were born to do, got feet? I truly understand why people choose to become pilots in the most romantic sense; the freedom, the sky, the clouds, the sheer exhilaration of being nearer to the stars. Defying gravity.

The passion that it takes to become a pilot is audacious at best, but life is short, and if you're not accustomed to following your bliss, your folly, you might never take chances that will change your life or in this case end your life. Keep in mind that death is a risk you take every time you wake up, so why not do something you love? And before you go on about me not following my own advice and say...learn to drive...I know how to drive, I passed driver's ed in high school. Sure, my instructor encouraged me to get a bus pass, but I passed and in all actuality you're all safer without me there to shake the water bottle of shame at you, which, come to think of it, would be far easier to do as a pilot, you don't have the 10 and 2 position to keep you from shaking the water bottle of shame at random birds or unruly cloud formations.