Dark Was the Night

Today is the day you ate a really gross burger at the Toronto airport, ate good Thai food in the city, and also watched CNN coverage in your hotel room.  Earlier today--and even until now--it is not known how this Cairo-bound plane from Paris disappeared in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.

On this flight, as you took a piss and noticed cracks on the corner near the toilet, you imagined a sudden jolt and the ripping of metal and your hanging onto the handicap-assisting handlebar.  It would be for naught, of course.  You imagined being ripped into the the 37,000 feet-high atmosphere.  You could not figure out if you'd freeze to death before you hit the ground.  Certainly there would be not enough oxygen, what with the hyperventilation.  And the hyperventilation and panic and cold would surmount the capability of your central nervous system.  You'd die at around 15K feet.

If somebody took a photo of your last moments on earth, it would be amazing, this body in full flight, eyes closed.  Probably not balletically posed, but weightless still.

What would it take to survive?  You imagined miles upon miles of increasingly thick foliage.  A flick of a whisp of a thought of a slice of a leaf of a fern first.  And then a cloud of dandelion weed flyaways.  And then a massive hammock made of banana leaves, woven together in a basket weave pattern.  You realized this would not happen.