So as you know from my previous post, Stacey the Rocket Ruckle is on vacation. She and John went to San Francisco to celebrate their 10th wedding anniversary. Is it a mere coincidence that the new Pope chose Francis, or is Stacey, in fact, somehow in control of the Catholic church….after all that whole vessel/vagina thing from Davinci Code…
What you probably DONT know is that both Stacey and I hate flying. As I like to say, it’s not the death thing that bothers me…it’s the whole three minutes plummeting to the earth in terror that gets me going. But, since I am a reasonably intelligent woman, I KNOW that flying is in fact safer than driving- percentage wise. So, I regularly fly for travel. Particularly in racing. It’s just that I need a little prep time.
Traditionally, Stacey and I arrive two hours in advance to the airport to facilitate the whole “drink yourself into a stupor” part of our flights. I have fake sobered my way onto many planes in the last ten years. Then we started getting all the FAA guys, so I kind of feel like I have a better chance that most of landing in an emergency situation. Cause what would those FAA peeps do without their divorce lawyer.
“Oh my GOD, Betsy is on that plane!!!! Clear the traffic.”
At least that’s how I see it. The other thing I do is check the PIREPS- pilots reports of turbulence- so I will know if its going to be a bumpy flight. As you have probably guessed, this is mostly a control issue for me. Shocking, right?
So anyway, today Stacey texted me a picture of a double vodka soda and “I hate flying”- and trying to be a supportive friend, I took a picture of the PIREPS screen, which showed clear flying, and sent it to her. With this caption:
“Remember, it’s always bumpy out of San Fran die to the ocean, after that enjoy Virgin (Airlines)”
Yep, really comforting right. I said “die to the ocean”- as opposed to “due to the ocean”. I’m sure my request that she die in the ocean in the plane made her feel better. I really should be a therapist. Or learn how to read. Whatever.
Stacey, if you can hear this…don’t die in the ocean. I’d miss you. Now come back home.