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January 22, 2008


Flying on a jet plane...

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Jim: Another Reason For Nursing Homes

Grampa sighed and shook his head. “Nope. Never done that, but it sounds like fun.”

“Oh, come on,” I scoffed. “You can’t be serious. Hell, Grampa, you’ve been all over the world.”

“That was a long time ago and I mostly went by ship or train.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve never flown on a jet?”

“Can’t say that I have,” admitted Grampa. “Sure would like to, though.”

“Then how did you travel to Aunt Flora’s last year?”

“I went there inside a jet,” grinned Grampa. “I suspect that’s a whole lot different than flying on one.”

Grampa’s a jerk.

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David: That's The Good News

So there I was, in some sort of infinite featureless expanse. Everywhere I looked I saw nothing but black. Pure, solid blackness, darker than the cloudiest moonless night.

I was hovering, or at least I was unsupported and yet not falling. I know you’re wondering how I could tell I wasn’t falling if there weren’t any landmarks to judge motion against. There wasn’t any wind. I wasn’t having trouble breathing, so I had to assume there was air, but air wasn’t rushing upward past me. Ergo, not falling. Floating.

But the sounds came from every quarter, and were positively unholy.

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Dave: Friendly Skies

Thank God that's over, Shawn sighed, stumbling out the sliding doors, out onto the sidewalk.  He hated flying -- hated it.  Being cooped up in a bit of aluminum and plastic; fat, sweaty guy on one side; surly goth girl with cranked-up headphones on the other; stupid, stupid unrestrained 5-year-old kicking the back of his seat the whole freaking flight ...

Horrible food, overpriced drink, grating movie ...

And the security lines, and the ticket lines, and the extortionate McDonalds burgers and the baggage claim ...

Well, now off to the hotel --

Shawn never even saw the careening taxi hop the curb.

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