Taking the "Class" Out of First Class

What's the last thing that goes through a bug's mind when he hits a windshield?

His ass.

So, I'm on this plane coming back from Hawaii and we hit turbulence and I start stressing out. Not about dying, but all the planning required for surviving a plane crash. If we should be so lucky as to have a Sully-like pilot who manages to safely land on the ocean like a waterbug, then when we jump down the inflatable ramp, they either won't let us first grab our carry-on luggage (for which I mentally go through the moves and how I can scoop up everything and take it all with me), or I'll be a screaming banshee, pushing everyone out of my way to get off first like George Costanza in that fire episode on Seinfeld, pushing down old ladies and not once thinking about my bags (or helpless children).

I think about all the crap I'm going to lose, like my driver license, and my credit cards and my car keys and what a total pain in the ass that would be to replace all that, and how am I going to drive the two hours home from San Francisco at 10:00pm if I don't have my car keys.

If I perish, then I won't give a crap that my keys are at the bottom of the San Francisco Bay, because the cars in Heaven don't need keys (and they get like, infinity miles per gallon).

If I survive, without my luggage, my laptop with all my photos that I haven't yet posted on my blog would also be swimming with the fishes. And that would piss me off. But if I died? It wouldn't matter, because Heaven is the big automatic alternate storage device. Just one big fat server - the true concept of cloud computing.

But then the turbulence stops and I simply go back to complaining about how I wasted my frequent flyer miles to fly first class on one of those smaller B-717 planes where you can easily touch the seat in front of you and how there's no foot rest and how there are not one but TWO babies crying in front of me.

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