Tag Archives: flying

Livin’ Large

This post over on Dooce’s blog, reminded me of some of the crap joy I’ve had to deal with growing up. See, I’m about 6’5″ tall and not the least bit scrawny. So I always got the questions from Aunts & Uncles (e.g. “when are you going to join the basketball/football/whateverball team?”). Unfortunately for them, I spent my early formative years in North Carolina and what we played down there, back then, was soccer. Basketball was for older kids and football was maybe somthing that you could do in your backyard; if you couldn’t afford a soccer ball and some shin guards.

Then I moved form NC to Iowa and up here (back then) there really wasn’t any where to play soccer. You basically had your choice of basketball or football; neither of which I give a fig for. My favorite memory of this sort of thing was when I met the coach at my 2nd high school and told him that I had no interest in either basketball or football. I could just see the disappointment build in his eyes.

Then again, I probably shouldn’t relish that moment because he more than got his revenge on me in the next 3 years of PhysEd classes. *ugh*

But the main thing about dooce’s post that reminded me of my own experiences was volleyball. While having me on your team was no guarantee of winning1; it certainly helped. What really helped was my “backhanded beeeatch-slap return” (patent-pending); see I’d be standing next to the net waiting for the ball to come over. I’d have my hands clasped ready to bump the ball back up, but I’d get bored waiting for the it, look up for the ball, see it hanging there just over the next and with my back still to the next reach up and smack the ball with the back of my hand. This worked rather like a low-flying spike; except that the other team almost never saw it coming because I was facing the wrong way. Ah, those were the days. *grin*

Oh for the record, my other 2 favorite activities in PhysEd class were Archery (I read too many fantasy novels) and floor hockey. Gods, I loved playing that game. Simply because I can fondly recall the kids who I truly disliked running full-tilt at me with the puck; expecting me to either move aside or fall down. Let’s think about this a moment; I’m 6’5″ and I wasn’t a skinny little kid. Dude, in floor hockey, I was the WALL. I didn’t dodge and I didn’t fall down. That’s what the other kids had to do. Muhahahahaha! Okay, I really should be doing some work; so that’s enough writing for now.

1 I’ve absolutely no jumping ability whatsoever, which makes some hits difficult to counter and is one of the reasons I hated basketball.

Last Chance to See

I just finished reading Douglas Adams and Mark Carwardine’s Last Chance to See. Wow. It was great! I’ve been a fan of Douglas Adams since I was knee-high to a grasshopper (mostly for his Hitcher’s Guide to the Galaxy) but I’d never read any non-fiction by him before. It was wonderful to see his irreverent and humorous style remained unchanged. Unfortunately, the copy of the book I got from Fritz was in an electronic format and didn’t include the photographs which I understand exist in the dead-tree version. Still, it was a delightful read and any Douglas Adams fan should enjoy it. Overall, I give it 4.75 out of 5 points.

Next up, I’ll me reading through Douglas Adams’s Starship Titanic by Terry Jones. Mr. Jones apparently read Douglas Adams’s Hitcher’s Guide to the Galaxy series, saw the couple of paragraphs that talk about the Starship Titanic and thought to himself “That would make a fun book! I shall sit down and write it, right after I take off all my clothes!”

Oh and in case that wasn’t a sufficient hint for you; this is the same Terry Jones of Monty Python fame. Keen! 🙂


Once again, I stayed up too late doing nothing in particular (reading some websites, trying to figure out more WP stuff, playing UT2004, etc..) so I’m feeling extremely tired this morning. The other side affect of staying up so late is that I can remember some of my dreams from last night.

In the dream, I’m the captain of a commercial airliner (a Boeing 747, I think). We’re making a routine flight from somewhere to somewhere else when something goes extremely wrong. What exactly goes wrong, I can’t tell but I know that I’ve lost around half my passengers and an engine or two.

We make an emergency landing on an interstate or maybe on a turnpike and one of the wings (and one of the remaining engines) gets snapped off by a support column for an overpass and then we’re finally able to bring the plane to a stop.

The next thing I know my copilot and I are carrying some flat-bed like thing that I intrinsically know weighs around 1300 lbs. We carry through a couple of building hallways before meeting up with superior officers/crash investigators. They make some sort of joke, but I don’t laugh. Then we carry the flat up a slight incline, set it done, pause for a moment to remember those who died and then reach into a wall panel, pulling out some heavy duty computer cable, which then gets hooked into the flat.

That’s where I woke up, though I did have a fleeting sense that the flat thing was some how acting as a blackbox data/flight recorder device.

Note to self: No more late night tacos for dinner.

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