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The Important Thing to Remember is to STAAAAAAYYYY CALLLLLLLLLM

I don't fly much; flying makes me nervous.  So does flying on Friday the 13th.  In order to prepare for my flight to Boston tonight, I reviewed this article on How to Survive a Plane Crash.  The main things I gained from it were:

1. I should listen to the flight attendant, which I was going to do anyway; and,
2. Plane crashes are horrible and horrific and fiery and I should be desperately afraid.

The latter may not have been the intention of the article, but come on:

"Imagine having to run away from a burning plane," says Corbett. "If you have to do that, how well are your flip-flops going to perform? How well are your high-heeled shoes going to perform? When you're sliding down that fabric slide out of the plane, are pantyhose going to withstand?

All I heard was, "Imagine yourself running away from a burning plane."  I did, and, wow--that was not a great strategy for calming myself down. Thanks for nothing, Corbett!  I wasn't even going to wear flip-flops, high heels, or panty hose in the first place.

"Sometimes, passengers and crew get some advance warning. The JetBlue passengers had lots of time to prepare as their plane burned off fuel for hours before making the emergency landing.If time is on your side, make the most of it. Review safety information about bracing for those landings, says Corbett."

Ummm, if I have two hours' notice that the plane I am on is going to be in a crash landing, I will not be spending my time reading the safety information.  I will be crapping myself.  After reading this tidbit, I think I might even be more scared of the concept of having advance warning that my plane will crash than I am of the actual crash part.  I mean, the main reason I do not go on roller coasters is I cannot stand it when they are slowly bringing you uphill and you just sit there getting antsier and antsier until you're ready to jump out of your seat.  Well, multiply that by a million and you have the flight equivalent.

The good news is that there is a reward at the end of my flight of horror: Cassie!  I will be back Monday to regale you with pictures of Beantown and, if everything goes really well, stories about Cassie yelling at men on the street.


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I felt the need to comment, but I didn't know which statement would be more fitting, so here are both:

Corbett would want you to crap your pants.

Would Corbett want you to crap your pants?

..I see now that both are lame. I am ashamed of myself. I can offer this advice, Boston guys dig it when you yell at them while throwing down your best robot dance.

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