"Obama's An Idiot" is where my political bitches now live. Go ye thereto and read.

Monday, February 01, 2010

How to Fall 35,000 Feet—And Survive

You have a late night and an early flight.
Not long after takeoff, you drift to sleep. Suddenly, you’re wide awake. There’s cold air rushing everywhere, and sound. Intense, horrible sound. Where am I?, you think. Where’s the plane?

You’re 6 miles up. You’re alone. You’re falling.

Things are bad. But now’s the time to focus on the good news. (Yes, it goes beyond surviving the destruction of your aircraft.) Although gravity is against you, another force is working in your favor: time. Believe it or not, you’re better off up here than if you’d slipped from the balcony of your high-rise hotel room after one too many drinks last night.

Or at least you will be. Oxygen is scarce at these heights. By now, hypoxia is starting to set in. You’ll be unconscious soon, and you’ll cannonball at least a mile before waking up again. When that happens, remember what you are about to read. The ground, after all, is your next destination.
[...]
Or, you can pull your knees up around your ears and kiss your ass goodbye.




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6 comments:

Cactus Mark said...

Nifty article.

utchies!

curmudgeon said...

An awful lot of thinking involved as you're plummeting to your death.

Jean said...

and how does one act logically in the mist of a major fucking panic?
Just kill me now.

Jean said...

midst, not mist, dammit.

curmudgeon said...

Mist. Close enough.
I know it was a Freudian thing stemming from the visualizations you're getting of hurtling through the clouds to your death.

Jean said...

I think you're right!