I HAVE CONQUERED THE MYSTERIES OF FLIGHT, I hollered inwardly, across the valleys of my emotions. LET THE AIR ITSELF BOW DOWN BEFORE ME.posted by Wretch729 at 10:23 AM on April 24, 2013 [3 favorites]
¡°That was pretty good,¡± Jay said. ¡°Let¡¯s try it again.¡±
EEP, NO, I bellowed to the valleys.
¡°You¡¯re not a pilot in Alaska,¡± Jay said, fixing me with a blue-eyed and somehow vaguely piratical stare, ¡°until you¡¯ve crashed an airplane. You go up in one of these stinkin¡¯ tin cans in the Arctic? Sooner or later you¡¯re gonna lose a motor, meet the wrong gust of wind, you name it. And OH BY THE WAY¡± (leaning in closer, stare magnifying in significance) ¡°that doesn¡¯t have to be the last word.¡±I like this guy a lot.
Christophe, his friend and former student, was younger, maybe in his late 40s, and cool in a louche French way, with a weird personal ostrich of uncombed gray hair; he was cigarette-thin and spent the whole trip with his neck elaborately engulfed in a camouflage-print silk scarf. He had this way of leaning on things. The heir to a rock-quarry fortune, he¡¯d worked as a photographer but retired young to a life of intensively having cheekbones.THIS SHIT IS GOLD
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posted by Horace Rumpole at 10:06 AM on April 24, 2013 [13 favorites]