Cleared for Takeoff
In your cramped aisle seat you sense acutely the muffled rumble of the jet engines and the distant roar of compressed air as another plane begins its own miraculous departure. Your plane taxies around the runway, wheeling around aimlessly, it seems, and you peer across your aislemates out the window only to see the wing bounce precariously with every bump. You realize you have staked your entire well-being on that wing but it's okay because it's strong and made of metal and metal's strong, right? Isn't it?
The plane straightens out and the pilot jerks it to an abrupt halt. Apprehension envelopes the cabin. Your neighbor fiercely clenches her armrests. You imagine the pilot staring down the two miles of asphalt into the quivering heat, gripping the throttle testily, waiting for The Voice to give the word. Back in your seat you reflect on the unnatural cylindrical shape of the fusilage and how you never see rooms like that normally and how the volume of a cylinder is pi r-squared h, right? and how you're about entrust your life to a metal tube with wings.
The roar begins. An invisible hand shoves you into your seat and you're off, and you think about how much this wild contraption weighs as it strains violently with the stress of acceleration, and you're going fast, but you glance out the window and it doesn't look like you're going that fast, well, not quite fast enough to lift off, and you wonder aloud in your head, "just how much lift do you suppose this thing needs?" and "so where is the end of the runway, anyway?", and at that moment, the nose tips up and, sure enough, you leave the earth and lurch skyward, leaving your stomach in your bowels, and the engines roar menacingly and you're still looking at the wing and you're wondering, "man wouldn't it just suck if that wing were to break off right now?"
Weather-wise, it's such a lovely day.
Just say the words, and we'll beat the birds
Down to Alcapulco Bay.
It's perfect for a flying honeymoon, they say.
Come fly with me! Let's fly, let's fly away!
The plane straightens out and the pilot jerks it to an abrupt halt. Apprehension envelopes the cabin. Your neighbor fiercely clenches her armrests. You imagine the pilot staring down the two miles of asphalt into the quivering heat, gripping the throttle testily, waiting for The Voice to give the word. Back in your seat you reflect on the unnatural cylindrical shape of the fusilage and how you never see rooms like that normally and how the volume of a cylinder is pi r-squared h, right? and how you're about entrust your life to a metal tube with wings.
The roar begins. An invisible hand shoves you into your seat and you're off, and you think about how much this wild contraption weighs as it strains violently with the stress of acceleration, and you're going fast, but you glance out the window and it doesn't look like you're going that fast, well, not quite fast enough to lift off, and you wonder aloud in your head, "just how much lift do you suppose this thing needs?" and "so where is the end of the runway, anyway?", and at that moment, the nose tips up and, sure enough, you leave the earth and lurch skyward, leaving your stomach in your bowels, and the engines roar menacingly and you're still looking at the wing and you're wondering, "man wouldn't it just suck if that wing were to break off right now?"
Weather-wise, it's such a lovely day.
Just say the words, and we'll beat the birds
Down to Alcapulco Bay.
It's perfect for a flying honeymoon, they say.
Come fly with me! Let's fly, let's fly away!
posted by TheTrayTiger at 11:40 PM
1 Comments:
hey you must be crazy busy in boston right now. are you going to keep this up while you're there? (you can't leave the blog ring when i've just joined!)
hmm maybe i can get a blog ring started of some people who recently graduated from gnv :) shall i link you to my german blog?
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