I can’t recall if I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m going to be getting on a plane in two weeks, two days plus an assorted number of hours. Not that it’s been on my mind or anything. I’m headed to Las Vegas, Nevada on a nifty business conference trip. This will be very interesting because 1) I’ve never been any farther West than Arkansas, much less Nevada, and 2) I’ve never been on a nifty business conference trip before. Unfortunatly, the most economically sane way to travel there is via plane.
I had my first plane dream for the trip last night. This seems to be evolving into a tradition; I had crazy plane dreams the last time I had to fly in 1999. I still remember that one vividly. We were flying to England but in my dream we took the Concorde — this was pre-Parisian firebomb of destruction, — which turned out to be no bigger than a kayak and our bodies were exposed to the elements as we flew in a stomach-lurching, roller coaster-like fashion through high rise buildings and lots of neon lights. Crazy Dream England and their neon lights.
Last night’s dream was, thankfully, in a normal-sized plane, but we were flying to Dallas instead, go fig. We used the interstate as a runway then the pilot immediately did a barrell roll to avoid the power lines. Only after the barrell roll did the pilot announce that the roll was a planned maneuver. Thank you very much, Red Baron. Halfway through the flight I’m told it’s my responsibility to call the Dallas airport to make sure their runway is big enough for our plane, but I can’t get through to them with my cell phone; I keep getting cut off. So, because of my ineptitude, we come to find out as we land that the runway is in fact not big enough, so the plane gets caught up in power lines and everyone hates me.
I don’t think it’s helped that Steven and I have been watching the entire first season of Lost. Have you seen that? Have you seen the plane crash sequences?! Why am I getting on this plane in two weeks? Someone tell me why it’s worth it!
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