Friday, February 27, 2009

Where the buffalo roam

[catching up from the last few weeks]

I am in the cockpit explaining to the hot shot pilots how my pops is the guy you want flying the fuel tanker behind you into battle. They are not impressed. [weird jump]
I am in the belly of the big transport plane that is going down. Everyone is grabbing onto something, but its the inside of a department store. I am digging my hands under a display rack bolted to the floor and the feelings of gravity are swimming in my stomach. No one is making a noise, just the creaking of steel against itself. Then the plane bellyflops jarring the cargo door open. We are alive!!! Someone yells "A herd of buffalo!" because there are hundreds of them running across the field, away from our crash landing.

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