I'm not sure if you've noticed, but the planes that crash in the mountains are always the tiny planes. The ones with two tiny seats on either side of the tiny isle and propellers on the wings.
Waiting for just such a plane at the Islip airport Sunday, the fortyish other passengers and I eyed each other appraisingly, trying to guess who would live and who would be eaten. We made our final picks as we climbed the stairs that folded out of the side of the plane and saw where people were sitting. The scrappy man in a suit jacket was old but seated next to the emergency exit. He lives. The couple in the front row, definitely going through the windshield.
For an hour and a half, our seats vibrated like type-A massage chairs until the plane approximated landing by plunging and thrashing its way into Pittsburgh, and this is what I learned:
Tiny planes are a field trip to the llama farm compared with category theory.
2 comments:
Field trips to the llama farm sound kinda boring.
Watches, you do need them especially when ordering things so you can fully take a full monitoring of time estimation at these orders.
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