Interesting times...the best reason for a Happy Hour~! Is it time for the next Great Depression or perhaps I feel that way because I am over 50.
I was married for 25 years and now I'm divorced. Two girls, ages 25 and 20, and one grandson (soon to be two!). Love politics, economics, music, friends, family, sci fi, reading, philosophy.
Wish I understood the world of high finance better. Getting quite an education on Calculated Risk, but feel like the dunce in the corner of the classroom.
Don't just lurk! Make a comment. Even if I don't know you. Especially if I don't know you. Have a conversation with a fellow commenter. That is what makes a blog so fun to read. What do other people think about what you said. What do they say to each other. Link to someone's blog because you love their comments made here.
I love this video. I love the flying, the song, the beauty. Part of me so wants to do something like this, but I know damn well that if you put me at the edge of one of these cliffs, I would have to crawl to the edge. I would be hyperventilating, sweaty, clammy, and ready to pass out from fear. The knocking sound you would hear would be my knees and my teeth chattering. I would be lucky to have the courage to even peek over the edge. I mean, are these people mad? I think they would have to throw me over the edge wailing and screaming.
So why on earth do I want to do this? Are there any shrinks out there who could put be on a cyber couch and tell me why, oh why, I even begin to think I want to do this? I mean climbing to the top of the ladder to put the star on a Christmas tree tests my fear of heights. I remember going to a space needle, I think it was in San Antonio, and we get to the top, the elevator opens, and I can barely move. I mean it took everything I had to get off the elevator and move toward the glass windows. I don't know if you have ever been in a space needle, but the wind buffets them pretty well, so the damn thing is swaying. It felt like being drunk but without the nice bottle of Jack Daniels. At least being drunk, I would have a good excuse for barfing.
I like to go fast. I could never have a truly fast sports car because they would throw me in jail and I am too much of a chicken to go to jail. I had the opportunity at about age 25 to go on high speed taxi ride in a T-38 jet. The Air Force used them at flight school for their pilots. I had to wear a flight suit, the helmet, but I got to wear my own tennis shoes. They let us steer down the taxi way with the canopies open. That was hysterical watching the wives try to steer a straight line. One by one we got into position on the runway and then we went screaming down the runway almost to the speed you would take off, but then we had to stop. I still remember the feeling of not wanting to stop. Keep going, take off~! I had no idea speed felt like that. In Top Gun, when he says he feels the need for speed, I had a small, very small, taste of that.
When I watch this video, I guess I want to feel that sense of speed and freedom. A friend of mine gets to fly, FLY, damn it, in a Blue Angel jet this weekend. She will truly learn what speed is. I told her even if she blows chunks, she will have a great time.
And if she meets a nice single pilot, about age 50 or so, to please get their number.
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