So, today I managed to trip over one of my family's two cats. This isn't unusual--the fat one is ALWAYS underfoot. What made this memorable was that it happened at the top of a flight of stairs.
Once I regained consciousness (and finished naming all the constellations filling up my field of vision), my mind began wandering to other, even more amusing, falling incidents. Naturally, this led me to wonder what it would be like to make the most epic fall ever--i.e., out of an airplane. Owing to my probable concussion, I imagined in great detail what it would be like, down to the inevitable discussion I would have with myself as I fell:
So I'm falling out of an airplane. What should I do first?
Open your eyes and quit screaming like a little girl, maybe? Geez, I'm embarrassed to be seen with you!
I think I wet my pants.
No big surprise there.
Okay, seriously, what should I do?
Well, the first thing to do is figure out how you got here...duh.
I think the emergency door malfunctioned. Or maybe the plane exploded. I feel like I'm on fire. AAAAAAAA!!!! I AM on fire!!!!!!!!!!!
Well, "Stop, drop and roll" ain't gonna work here...let's remove what we can and slap out the rest.
So now I'm gonna die in my undies?
Whoa. You're right. Bad mental image there. Never mind, just slap it out. Let's see, we were at 30,000 feet when we started falling, so now we're around...20,000? Terminal velocity, baby!!!!
*WHACK WHACK* OWWW!!! Hey, neat. How fast is that?
Around 120 miles per hour, but I don't know if that takes into account that we're a freaking STICK. You need to eat more.
Hey, don't YOU start with me. I eat like a horse. Besides, wouldn't more weight make me fall faster? Or is that offset by my smaller surface area?
How the heck would I know? Do I look like a rocket scientist?
Well, ONE of us ought to be. WE WENT TO THE SAME FREAKING CLASSES.
Well, maybe if you'd actually paid attention instead of doodling Ironman suit designs on your paper...
Hey, if I'd actually gotten the suit built, we wouldn't HAVE this issue.
We're still falling to our death, right?
...oh, right. Gee, this takes forever.
About three minutes, actually. I looked it up once.
You, my friend, need to get a life. And we've used up about 2 minutes of flight time...let's talk survival.
Let's talk PARACHUTE, dammit!
Oh, you have one? Why didn't you MENTION this?
No, I don't. I was wondering if we could do some McGyver thing and make one out of my clothes.
...got a sewing machine? Or duct tape?
Crap. Okay, landing. What should I do?
Well, we have two options. We could try to land on our feet, and then tuck and roll, which will in all likelihood drive our knees through our brain...or we could land flat on our back and try to distribute the impact.
Will that second option save me?
Well...um...no. But it will make a really cool splat.
Why don't we just aim for the haystack?
Oh. Yeah, that works too, I guess. Definitely land on your back then.
Besides hope that you haven't used up your nine lives yet?
YOU shut up!
"Radar, why are you lying at the base of the stairs?"
"Uh, hi, Mom! Just...umm...resting? And not hallucinating at all!!"