Poor Mr. Duckie is, alas, a flightless bird. But “here” he manages to soar faster and higher than most real ducks ever dream about.
Do ducks dream? And would they dream about flying at 30,000 feet? At over 500 MPH?
The one thing I always look for when flying are baseball fields. They are, to me, the most recognizable landmarks from the air. When I see the distinctive tan diamonds on a field of green, I know that I am close to landing.
I’ve flown Southwest every time I’ve ever traveled, but one. And I find I prefer it. They are a bit more relaxed, a bit more informal, than most other airlines. They also have a safety record for their passengers that is the envy of other major carriers. (Not so great for those outside the plane, but pretty good for those of us on the inside.
OK, it’s offcial. Electric Mayhem is a wonderful machine, but its battery life leaves a bit to be desired. I’ll finish this and post it later.
Update: I just found out that the friendly couple next to me are a professor and wife from my alma mater. I never had any of his classes, but we’d met once or twice. Naturally, I remembered him better than he I, but he filled me in on a couple of my former classmates. One of them is now a medium to high mucky-muck with the National Weather Service, running a station in New Hampshire.
I remember a little about Scott. Suddenly I don’t feel quite so safe in the air. Someone of my generation is in charge of forecasting the weather I’m flying through? Someone who went to the same college I did?
Man, I hope he took away more than I did.