Flying has made me realize I need to hit the Gym...

Not for hokey health reasons or b/c poor blood circulation on long flights can cause blood clots and ultimately death... nor is it about looks b/c quite frankly, when I've awoken at the crack of dawn or sat in gridlock for an hour or met with an [insert adjective here] client AND I'm supposed to be on a flying can of sardines, I can just muster enough concern not to look like that girl from 'The Ring' - just barely...

No, it has to do with embarassment. And pain. And fear...

Whenever I fly, I usually get an aisle seat so I can get my luggage out as quickly as possible from the overhead bins while the rest of the cattle are waiting for the corral doors to open. On a recent trip to [fill in godforsaken city name here] I was trying to be my usual efficient self and was attempting to pry my luggage out of the overhead bin... when... All of a sudden, my luggage seemed so much heavier than my arms could manage. To my utter horror, I watched as the hulking blue canvas Samsonite teetered over the edge of the bin, my arms were like wet spaggetti, I was helpless to stop the slow but inevitable fall of the luggage, nor, given the cramped sorroundings, could I save myself from being crushed by the Megalithic suitcase... My heart raced, my biceps strained, sweat beaded my brow but my efforts were in vain... so I did the only thing possible to stop the fall of the suitcase, I used my head. Literally. Or more like, the suitcase found the bridge of my nose a proper resting place in its crashing downward descent.

As pain shot thru my skull, I struggled vainly to push the offending luggage off my face but to no avail. I had to throw myself on the mercy of strangers to keep me from being smothered or crushed by aforementioned homicidal luggage. This big Viking looking guy reached across single-handedly and lifted the suitcase off my face as I scurried to get out of its downward trajectory. I thanked him politely and with about as much pride as I could muster given the big red welt developing on my nose and the looks of pity mixed with sniggers of amusement, I dragged the offending luggage behind me as I exited the plane.

So yeah, to keep my luggage from trying to kill me, I need to hit the gym. Either that or leave the anvil at home...

From April 2006 post