Tequila on my breath and pizza in my pocket
I hate flying. I do not hate it in the way that, say, my brother hates flying. He believes that every ticket he buys is a one-way, Super Saver Special to the grave. Over break he refused to fly in the same plane as me because “that way when it crashes, only one of us will die.”
I am a selfish bastard because I don’t care who’s onboard with me when the bird goes down: I will soon be gone and none of it will be my problem anymore. I actually think the in-the-air part of flying can be fun. One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen was the sun rising over the ocean on a plane...
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