Revolutionary Flight

I have so much to say about my trip to Puerto Rico.  Seriously.  I just don’t have the time and it kills me, for I am about to embark on an epic 4 day backpacking trip with 7 people and a dog.  And I am also currently very sleep deprived because I’ve had no time to pack, work, blog, sleep and watch the Olympics at the same time.  This time, I’ve chosen to forgo work and sleep and see what happens.

First things first re: this trip.  You see, I’ve learned a valuable secret.  A conspiracy, even.  I shouldn’t even be here talking to you about this, but I love you and so I’m going out on a limb here.  That’s right, this just got real and has absolutely nothing to do with my Olympics-and-sleep-deprivation-induced-euphoric-paranoia.

The TSA and the airline companies don’t want us to know our real histories, our true abilities, or our amazing destinies.

They do their best to hold us back and keep us in check.  Make em take off their shoes so they can’t run.  Put em through this poly-laser turbo machine so we can see their naked weaknesses.  Buckle your seatbelt and SIT DOWN while the seatbelt sign is lit OR ELSE!
But, while they thought they had us complacent, throwing up into tiny paper bags and breathing oxygen laced with meth through plastic bags hanging from the ceiling, I know their secret.

Hidden in the seatback pocket in front of each one of you is a laminated, vomit-proof illustrated safety card that holds the key to your destiny.

Before flying with my pilot partner, I only glanced at it on my way to the SkyMall (which is not a magazine, it’s a street term for getting high on meth at 30,000 feet) and never really realized what it was.  But Brian actually reads this thing, this rebel pamphlet, and he was the one who enlightened me, and now I pass on the secret to all of you:

We all were born with super powers beyond our wildest dreams.

That’s right, my friends.  Observe:

Please levitate out the door. And don’t take your cardboard squares.


Use your laser vision to open the door and fly to safety.

You’d never think this mom-jeans wearing simpleton could blast through metal with one cold stare…that is, unless you were her partner.



Levitate down the slide. Don’t hide your true super powers. X-men Unite!

And now you know the truth.

You can thank me later, as long as I am not mauled by a bear this weekend.  In that case, you can thank me at my embarrassingly expensive and public memorial service.

7 responses

  1. Pingback: Puerto Rico – los animales | Psychobabble

  2. Too, too funny. Perhaps our super powers just never kick in unless we are in need of evacuating an airplane? If that’s the case, it really is a shame because that seems like kind of a niche-y scenario.

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