Flight to New Haven

I had a few beers during my layover in Philadelphia. After my intense one-man drinking show, I went to do what every visitor in Philly does – get a Philly cheesesteak.

Somehow, at the last minute, I talked myself out of it and opted for the $9 turkey bacon sandwich. I always do that; change my mind at the last minute, usually for the worst. You’d think I would have learned better by now.

The lady behind me was definitely schooled in decision-making and stuck to her guns, confidently ordering the cheesesteak. She looked like one of those power speakers you see at hotel conventions.

Taking my place in front of the assembly line cooking station I awaited my sandwich that was pulled from the fridge, pre-made, and popped into the microwave. I ended up with a soggy luke-warm sandwich-unit that resembled something you might get from a vending machine, and power speaker got her gorgeous cheese steak. I went to see if they would do a trade-in but had no luck.

I found my way back to the gate where many a bearded fellow eagerly awaited his return to Yale. I tried to eaves drop on their conversations, but all I heard was a bunch of name dropping – Dr. so-and-so met me at the conference in Chicago and we met up with Dr. Whatchamacallit and then Dr. blah-blah showed up with the prestigious Dr. Wadda-Wadda…

I abandoned the scene and my baggage for a cigarette with one of the maintenance workers. I ended up giving him my sandwich.

We finally boarded – I was on my way to speak at Yale. I was very excited! After listening to the exit-row-seatbelt-floatation-cushion speech, I made myself a little nest using those weird airline pillows and short blankets. My comfort quickly dissolved when the bi-plane started up. The propeller was right out my window, right in line with me.

My buzz wore off as I watched the propeller reach its full speed. I was in direct fire if that thing decided to come loose. What if it came loose? It’d cut right through the plane and saw my legs clean off at the knee, unless of course it ricocheted into the person behind me.

The guy on the other side didn’t seem to be at all worried – lucky bastard.

Hedging my fatal future, I tucked my legs up on the empty seat next to me and kept a watchful eye on it. I wonder if that has that ever happened before?

In hindsight, if that propeller came loose and did cut my legs off that would probably be the least of my worries.

I went to the bathroom and threw-up from making myself so damn paranoid.

I hate flying.