четверг, 10 марта 2011 г.

Life insurance pays off triple if you die on a business trip

Это типа я прилетел домой. Летел через Чикаго O’Hare International. Не спал полтора суток.
YOU WAKE UP at Air Harbor International.
Every takeoff and landing, when the plane banked too much to one side, I prayed for a crash. That moment cures my insomnia with narcolepsy when we might die helpless and packed human tobacco in the fuselage.
This is how I met Tyler Durden.
You wake up at O’Hare.
You wake up at LaGuardia.

You wake up at Logan.
Tyler worked part-time as a movie projectionist. Because of his nature, Tyler could only work night jobs. If a projectionist called in sick, the union called Tyler.
Some people are night people. Some people are day people. I could only work a day job.
You wake up at Dulles.
Life insurance pays off triple if you die on a business trip. I prayed for wind shear effect. I prayed for pelicans sucked into the turbines and loose bolts and ice on the wings. On takeoff, as the plane pushed down the runway and the flaps tilted up, with our seats in their full upright position and our tray tables stowed and all personal carry-on baggage in the overhead compartment, as the end of the runway ran up to meet us with our smoking materials extinguished, I prayed for a crash.
You wake up at Love Field.