did I catch the wrong flight?

Subject: did I catch the wrong flight?

Holy Toledo you guys!!! 

And by the way, why is it always Toledo that's Holy?  Did we all get shoved onto the Wiki Tiki Airline? 

I mean, one minute I think we're flying along chatting about whether we are nice guys when we refuse to surrender our canes, and then I go outside to burn the trash and stack some cord wood and hike up our brand new road to hour brand new high pasture, and when I come back on-line we're all wallowing in the mud, having us a Royal Pissing match(excuse my mouth Mother). 

Could someone raise their head above the slime for just a minute and explain to me what changing seats has to do with me as a blind airline passenger? 

To me, any seat on the plane is a bad seat.  Well, I've never flown First Class, being the son of a Working Class Man.  But if that plane sits down safely at the end of our flight, I could care less where my behind is parked.  At six feet three inches and bouncing in around two hundred and fifty five pounds, there is no seat that will fit me.  Again, no seat that I can afford. 

So I figure I'm going to bring a book, settle in, sleep as much as I can, read my book, try not to talk to anyone, because the drone of the plane makes it hard to hear,

And if that plane doesn't make our destination, it really doesn't matter where I sit.  I know that we'll have a short period of time until oblivion, so I'll skip to the last page and make certain that I know how the book turns out. 

Otherwise I could just see me at the Pearly Gate.  Saint Peter says, "Carl, my lad, you don't know if God exists, so we just can't open the gate for you.  We're going to have to toss you into the Lake of Molten Lava." 

"But please Mister Saint Peter, before I go to my eternal splashing in hot lava, could you just tell me how my book turned out?" 

"Sorry, my lad, that's part of your eternal punishment." 

Yeeks!!!  This may explain why I really hate to fly. 

 

Carl Jarvis

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