My head has been flying around the airport, round and round it goes with only temporary (and very speedy at that) visions of the landing strip or tower. I am dodging flies, clouds, ladybugs, witches on brooms, pic-a-nic-a baskets which require my full attention. Focusing on the tasks at hand I keep my compass set on the runway as surely at this speed and momentum I will run out of gas. Speaking of gas, one of my dogs just let one out that is pealing the paint off my freshly painted walls.
The problem isn’t keeping my eyes on the finish line, it is the identified and unidentifed flying objects that at minimum, throw me off balance and at maximum, feel like a bird just flew into one of my engines. Did I say engines? I have more than one? I didn’t know I was so boastful!
Insanity encircles my thoughts as the wind brushes across the hair on my poor neglected legs… but have no fear “Fake Boobs are here” to serve as anchor to my newly slender body.
If only I could hear the air traffic controller, where is the volume button? Crap, where did I put my headset? Where did I put my head?…. The crackling background of his cocky voice can be heard sporadically through the lost headset…Wait… I remember it fell off my head in between my legs as I accidentally veered hard right. I reach down feeling around, where did it go? Finally my middle fingertip feels the edge of its band but I cccccan’t quite reach it. I look down and jut forward and grab it. Now full of ego, self confidence and self I reposition mine eyes to the front of the plane…….Oh No! A Little Ceasars delivery plane is headed straight towards me… WITH anchovies….No Anchovies Please! With skill and luck I veer far left, soaring strictly on adrenaline. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this… Air, air, I need air I’m thinking… the oxygen mask pops down in front of me from its secure location. “If you are traveling with someone who needs assistance, put your own oxygen mask on first”… I look around, were they talking about my alter ego “Victoria Barkley”… or is that “Barbara Stanwyck?” As I spend what appears to be minutes debating this, the dashboard is flashing “EJECT, EJECT, EJECT” in what I swear was Tom Cruise’s voice. But my arms are so tired, achey, the parachute is a good 12″ or more above my head… No, I can’t, I don’t have it in me…. “Yes, yes you CAN do it, you WILL do it” says Victoria. “You are not alone, you are never alone, you are always given what you need” (hence the O2 mask when I needed air).
Depleting all my strength but successfully grabbing hold of the parachute I accidentally hit the dial to the Satellite Radio Station….which is now blaring a VIDEO of (who the hell turned up the volume? Oh yeah, it was me, I couldn’t hear the cocky air traffic controller) “Black Sabbath” lipsynching Lawrence Welk. Hmmm, maybe I do like acid rock? Finally, with success, I find the EJECT button, striking it hard with determination and seeking relief from peril my hand jams into the control panel, three nails fly off… but have no fear… They are press on’s!
Without any drama, comical error or accident I pull the shute…. aww relief, relax, air… I feel nothing but air everywhere…. I am safe, I am in the palm of faith…. I look down to the ground and THERE is the married man with “good morals” who messaged me from OKCupid…. Oh, I take a big sigh of relief… thank GOD it’s a man with morals… as I’m wearing a skirt!!!!!!! Surely he is looking at the free silpada jewelry I got from having a party!