Thursday, January 15, 2009
Revenge of the Birds
Flying is boredom, wasted time, inconvenience, indignity and discomfort interrupted by short bursts of terror. I hate flying. Whenever I fly into LaGuardia I always hold my breath, thinking we are going to ditch in the water. Takeoffs are worse, though -- how could this multi-ton bucket of bolts, packed to the gills with junk and cheap bags, possibly float through the air? Today's crash into the Hudson River, even with it's miraculous lack of casualties, reminds me why I like to hang out with my kids, play cards, and goof around, rather than schlep them across India for quasi-mystical treks. Even though it's safer to fly than to drive, and even though an air crash is the exception to the rule, I'm always happy I don't have to spend the day in the airport. And, when I think about it, the fact that birds were sucked into the engines and made the planes fail has a certain ironic charm--what the hell are we thinking, anyway?