So I have a new job. Yay! I don't have to work at the gas station anymore!!! It's a pretty cushy job, too. 10 bucks an hour, yeah I'm okay with that. There's just a small problem. They want me to fly to the regional headquarters in Cheyenne, Wyoming.
Now besides the fact that instead of going to the national headquarters in Florida, which is a lot cooler place than Wyoming (way to go Captain Obvious,) I have to FLY. Let me emphasize that a little: FLY.
So let me be clear. I don't fly. Ever. Well, I have 4 times. And I didn't like any of them. So, like smoking, I quit. And, like smoking, I guess I'm starting again.
The problem is I think I'm gonna crash and die. Now I know people will say things like "flying is safer than driving," and "the most dangerous part of flying is driving to the airport," but fuck them. I'm sorry, but how many people get to survive a plane crash? When you're driving you car, you can be almost sure you're not going to plummet 40,000 feet to your death.
I just really don't want to be aware of what's happening when the plane goes nose first into the Sandhills. It really scares the hell out of me.
And now, I can't even bring matches on the plane. So after they pry my hands loose from the arm rests and kick me out into the terminal, I can't even smoke a damn cigarette. Fucking terrorists.
I'm not afraid of them, either. After 9/11 everybody was scared of terrorists. The terrorists who would hijack a plane going from Lincoln, Nebraska to Cheyenne, Wyoming are the terrorists who got kicked out of terrorist school for smoking crack between prayer times.
What the shit is wrong with driving? Hell, I could explore the beauty of our Sandhills, and drive towards the Rocky Mountains, and check out everything Wyoming has to offer. Like livestock.
John Madden gets to roll around the country in this giant bus motor home thing because he's afraid of flying. I'm on his side. Flying is for people who have a death wish.
But then, I do realize that planes rarely crash. 100,000 people flew today, my parents included. They went to freakin Disney World. Without me, I might add (don't get me started.) They all made it okay. Maybe if I could take 2 Darvocets washed down with 3 glasses of wine I could fly okay. But it's a business trip, so I can't show up unconscious.
So I guess I'm writing this so there's a record of how I ended up dying. Cuz I will. Or not. I guess you'd have to be a lucky person to beat the odds of dying in an airplane, and I have yet to see the results of my 20 dollar Powerball ticket. So obviously, I'm not that lucky.
Whatever. If I die on a trip to Cheyenne, Wyoming, I'm gonna be pissed. If I'm gonna die on a plane, then I should be going to fucking Hawaii.
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