I’ll probably die while traveling.
Maybe while on a plane, on my way to somewhere for vacation or worse, coming back home after a weekend of fun in an exotic island. I just finished eating the scrumptuous meal prepared by the flight attendants when I feel the plane dip into the air. I remain calm. I figure, planes always experience turbulence.
When I realize that it’s not the normal disturbance of air flights, when I realize that the plane is actually crashing down, when I see overhead cabins opening and baggages falling out, when I notice that the flight attendants are trying to calm the passengers, I slowly get my ipod, choose a track from Rihanna or even from the Hill Songs’ rock collection, and turn the volume full blast – to drown out the screams of the women and the cries of the children.
I get my Mac, connect to Facebook and Twitter thanks to the on-plane free wifi, and send my last status, probably something like “Plane is crashing. Love you all” and tag all my immediate family members. Status updated.
I close my Mac and carefully place it under the seat in front of me. Wouldn’t want the flight attendant to scold me for not following air plane rules. Then I wrap the blanket comfortably around me, fluff up my pillow, close my eyes, tell God ‘thanks for all the blessings’ and ask Him for one last miracle – that I faint.
Then I die.
I thought of this when I experienced heavy turbulence a few hours ago on the flight going to Vietnam. I realized I’d like to die doing something I love, you know, like Steve Irwin. So I guess on top of my list is death by traveling. Yeah, definitely death by traveling.