Four hundred and twenty-one dollars later, I realize why it is that I don’t play solitaire in Los Vegas.
It’s been a very bumpy flight so far. We are about an hour out of Tampa, by my guess, and the seat belt light has been on for at least half of the time. It seems as though most of us aren’t paying much heed to that fact, but a few moments ago I noticed that the man next to me (who has been sleeping for much of the flight) seemed to be praying. Not really sure if that is what he was doing, but it gave me pause for a moment.
We all think that “those things” happen to “somebody else.” But right now, as the plane is shaking fairly violently, I’m wondering if it’s my turn to be somebody else.
I’m not scared by the notion. In fact, I’m facing it with a sort of morbid curiosity. Like the times when I’ve contemplated suicide. I wonder what the consequences would be. What would people say? What would they do? Would they be sad? Angry? Would my family sue the airlines? Would Lu kick Karen out of my house? Would they find this laptop and pull all of my writings over the last few days off of it? Have I made my after death wishes known to the right people (as I still do not have a will).
All of these things just crossed my mind. Not an altogether pleasant experience.
Notice, however, I do not say that I joined my co-passenger in prayer. Even when I have flashes of worrying about my existence, I do not turn to the Lord. I just see it being hypocritical. I don’t believe in him. Why the hell would he accept me if I waited until the last minute to say hello anyway??
Hrm…Interesting thing to write if this did turn into a fiery ball o’ airplane.
I snapped a picture of the sleeping guy. He’s funny. I also took some pictures of clouds. Because that’s what you do when you’re flying. You take pictures of clouds.
The batteries in this little lap top are pretty impressive. I’ve been using the machine quite liberally since I left Seattle this morning, and I still apparently have 30% of the power left in them. I need to get one of my own. While I could never code on a regular basis on one of these machines, the ability to write with it is very appealing indeed. I hate to write free hand because I cramp very easily. I think it’s the arthritis that runs in my family. I can’t use a pen or pencil for long periods at all. But I can type for hours on end, and I think perhaps that if I had a lap top I could occasionally hook into my network at home to transfer data from I’d be in really good shape. I’m going to have to look into getting one.
Heh. And I actually said that I thought I was written out for the weekend, didn’t I?