2001-03-07 :: 9:17:44 pm

So, I was browsing at Border's and I found the most horrifying book.

I mean, it's horrifying in a good way, like in a very grim, ghoulish way.

I was freaking out reading some of those cockpit voice recordings, I was literally freaking out.

Reading the last few seconds of someone's life is harrowing enough, but can you imagine if you were one of the people who actually had to hear the recording?

It was really interesting, though, to read about how some people handle facing death. One co-pilot's last words were "I love you, Amy." That is fucking tragic and beautiful. That really got me where I live, you know?

Another pilot and co-pilot knew they were going to die and went down joking about it all the way. That is fucking hardcore. The Tower Control guy basically doesn't believe what they're telling him (that all four engines are out and they lost all ability to steer the plane) and it becomes a running joke between he pilot and co-pilot throughout their entire attempt to save the airplane.

On another flight, you read through pages of mundane conversation between pilot and co-pilot about what kind of fruit drink they're having, and when one of them goes to the back of the plane to pee, the other calls him on the phone and they joke about how cute the flight attendants are.

It's shit like that...that really makes me nervous about flying. because everything was fine. And then everything went to total shit. An engine blew, who knows, but it was major. And there was no saving it. At one point, a flight attendant asks them if she should wait for them to give her the signal to evacuate, and the pilot goes, "Well, yeah, but I have serious doubts if you'll find us standing at that point, honey."

I get so scared on planes. Every bump sends me into apoplexy. God love the Vicodin and Valium because I would never make it on a trans-Atlantic flight without one or the other.

And I don't believe the bullshit about it being over quickly and not really knowing what's happening, in a fatal plane crash, because on one flight that the book talks about, it was determined the plane was plummeting long enough for about thirty passengers to scribble down last words to their loved ones on cocktail napkins and barf bags. Those notes were found all intact, too, which is so creepy.

I never want to find myself in a position where my last corporeal seconds on earth are spent frantic about trying to tell my mother how much she meant to me, and trying to tell Rock Star Ex that he was always in my heart.

How grim.

...does this make me goth?

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