Up on an Airplane...
I've often said if I have to go, then an airplane crash seems most justified. Really, what are we doing up there anyway? I've had a hard time explaining why I feel this, but just read this in a Slate article about the wonders of the Skymall catalog that seems to sum up this sense I have quite well:
"Something to do with the fact that when one is up in the air, however familiar, on some limbic level of the brain, one is aware of how absurd it is to be suspended eight miles high in a metal container, only some poorly understood laws of physics keeping you from plunging abruptly to certain death. "
The article in question is actually pretty funny, too... love the existential contemplation of leftover chicken wing bones in the description of the SnakDaddy - "Where the wings have no shame". Heh... http://www.slate.com/id/2164517/pagenum/all/#page_start
Enjoy the flight!
