Tuesday, July 26, 2005

This missive, partially scrawled on the back of my ticket stub, comes from the cabin of a 737, and if that isn’t hackneyed enough for you, well, hand me a cocktail napkin so I can write my afterword. There’s something about a plane ride that makes you honest, gives you some religion, and in certain cases compels you to discussion.

Sitting to my left is a tot who, during moments when he isn’t chewing on his seatbelt, stares intently at this very scrap of paper. That’s sufficient encouragement to impart my wisdom–our wisdom, to be correct–and tether those vowels to the cogs of industry.

My flight was delayed because of an “equipment change,” which hopefully means they replaced the turbines prone to fiery explosion with turbines prone to stopping altogether. If I don’t make it, I can confidently say we’ve had a good run, not that you’d be able to read any of this, and I’m pleased our legacy ended with a post on incompetence. If I do make it, I believe it’s time to steer our enterprise toward parts unknown.

It’s been said almost all our recent talks contain at least one instance of morbidity daily, and I guess there’s some truth to this claim. Why this happened, I’m not exactly sure, but it was never my intention to darken your evenings with portents of despair. Ours was to be a happy home glazed with merriment and the laughter of children, not some charnel house grinding to the chorus of the wailing damned.

Tomorrow–and there will be a tomorrow–we start anew. I’m putting on my Happy Hat. You haven’t misplaced yours, I trust.