Air Crash Investigations Scare Me To Death. MH17
Without Prejudice
I guess you think by my title I should simply not watch. And yet disaster shows fascinate me. Especially Air Crash Investigations. I didn't start watching until I decided I hate flying. They can serve me all the beautiful dinky little meals they want, slather me with those soft hot washers that smell faintly of hand raised lotus flowers in bloom, complimentary chocolate wafer with my coffee. I don't care. That great big metal thing should not be in the air.
Look at the terrible ending that the passengers and crew of MH17 had. No one could have foreseen that terrible tragedy. And the aftermath for the world has literally been staggering. I can't forget the men gathered around in the strong sunlight, literally standing amongst dead bodies and belongings seemingly unconcerned, no reverence for the dead. Are we that unevolved as human beings ?
I have another sooky la la in the family, Alena, my youngest daughter. We just about had to sedate her to get her on a plane to Bali in 1989 and things haven't improved much for her flying experiences since then. I know there are people that love it, get excited by it, feel the exhilaration of the flight, the thrust of the powerful jet engines on take off, scoff at a " little turbulence " . I regard those people with something akin to awe.
And those self same people take great delight in filling me in in their extensive travel experiences. I listen politely as my palms start to ever so slightly start to ooze sweat. I resist the desire to run screaming from the room and mentally go to my " happy place " so I do not have to think about it. They continue to chatter away happily and I am somewhere else.
One of my siblings is in Detroit with his son at the moment and the first I knew of it was a photo of him on Facebook evacuated from his hotel room at 3am in the morning. Yes, he did have time to put his pants on, thank God. My sister I knew was off sometime in August for the whole month with her hubby for a River Cruise down the Rhine, I think. I am so glad the first thing I saw was her photo of Cologne Cathedral on Facebook.
She knows to be vague about dates as I would have to worry for her for at least 24 hours of her flying. She travels like a trooper. It's sickening. When we went to the U.K. Last year I was in a mood the whole way, there and good on the way back until I slid over backwards at the Duty Free in Brisbane and cracked the back of my head with a resounding thwack.
It was almost like an excuse to say "See, I told you something bad would happen ! "
I then had to stand in line for two hours crying at the pain in my head and then still get home to Melbourne. I decided then and there next time I am taking a boat.
At the moment I am reposed on my couch covered in a blanket, coughing not so discreetly with a mucous drowning cold that fills my sinuses and chest. I have coated every available surface of skin with Vicks Vaporub And am desperately trying to remember not to rub my eyes. The effects of which would probably blind me for life.
Ah, the comfort of a cold in dead winter. Being only a little sick and reading the fact that it is good to rest, drink loads of liquids and watch T.V. Without guilt. It's all very satisfying in a weird sort of way. Blowing into a tissue or ten threatens to blow out an eyeball or at least puncture an ear drum or two. I wish someone was here to cosset me, squeeze me fresh orange juice, massage my aching back but because I am a bad perverse person there is not. Quelle Bummer.
But at least there is Air Craft Investigations to look forward to, which should tell you how rotten but contented at the same time, I feel. I am cheap so have no Foxtel. I could be watching Gok Wan or the murder channel and I can afford it but my brother George has it and says he doesn't believe it's worth the money, most of the time.
So I exorcise and exercise my dark side by watching from the safety of my home, the crashes, the tragedies, the terrible weather, the human faults of pilots and the breakdown of infallible computers. I don't even gave to go to my "happy place ", I am already there. No interruptions, I lost my mobile today and I decide I am not replacing it. Phones and I, are like credit cards and I, not compatible. I have lost, wet, broken too many phones now. Mick Malloy refuses to have one, my daughter Yvette, same, my brother Ian and his wife in Darwin, gave theirs up. So if I don't find it too bad.
Meanwhile back to Aircraft Investigations and a healthy dose of 48 hours, hopefully it's a gory murder.
I guess you think by my title I should simply not watch. And yet disaster shows fascinate me. Especially Air Crash Investigations. I didn't start watching until I decided I hate flying. They can serve me all the beautiful dinky little meals they want, slather me with those soft hot washers that smell faintly of hand raised lotus flowers in bloom, complimentary chocolate wafer with my coffee. I don't care. That great big metal thing should not be in the air.
Look at the terrible ending that the passengers and crew of MH17 had. No one could have foreseen that terrible tragedy. And the aftermath for the world has literally been staggering. I can't forget the men gathered around in the strong sunlight, literally standing amongst dead bodies and belongings seemingly unconcerned, no reverence for the dead. Are we that unevolved as human beings ?
I have another sooky la la in the family, Alena, my youngest daughter. We just about had to sedate her to get her on a plane to Bali in 1989 and things haven't improved much for her flying experiences since then. I know there are people that love it, get excited by it, feel the exhilaration of the flight, the thrust of the powerful jet engines on take off, scoff at a " little turbulence " . I regard those people with something akin to awe.
And those self same people take great delight in filling me in in their extensive travel experiences. I listen politely as my palms start to ever so slightly start to ooze sweat. I resist the desire to run screaming from the room and mentally go to my " happy place " so I do not have to think about it. They continue to chatter away happily and I am somewhere else.
One of my siblings is in Detroit with his son at the moment and the first I knew of it was a photo of him on Facebook evacuated from his hotel room at 3am in the morning. Yes, he did have time to put his pants on, thank God. My sister I knew was off sometime in August for the whole month with her hubby for a River Cruise down the Rhine, I think. I am so glad the first thing I saw was her photo of Cologne Cathedral on Facebook.
She knows to be vague about dates as I would have to worry for her for at least 24 hours of her flying. She travels like a trooper. It's sickening. When we went to the U.K. Last year I was in a mood the whole way, there and good on the way back until I slid over backwards at the Duty Free in Brisbane and cracked the back of my head with a resounding thwack.
It was almost like an excuse to say "See, I told you something bad would happen ! "
I then had to stand in line for two hours crying at the pain in my head and then still get home to Melbourne. I decided then and there next time I am taking a boat.
At the moment I am reposed on my couch covered in a blanket, coughing not so discreetly with a mucous drowning cold that fills my sinuses and chest. I have coated every available surface of skin with Vicks Vaporub And am desperately trying to remember not to rub my eyes. The effects of which would probably blind me for life.
Ah, the comfort of a cold in dead winter. Being only a little sick and reading the fact that it is good to rest, drink loads of liquids and watch T.V. Without guilt. It's all very satisfying in a weird sort of way. Blowing into a tissue or ten threatens to blow out an eyeball or at least puncture an ear drum or two. I wish someone was here to cosset me, squeeze me fresh orange juice, massage my aching back but because I am a bad perverse person there is not. Quelle Bummer.
But at least there is Air Craft Investigations to look forward to, which should tell you how rotten but contented at the same time, I feel. I am cheap so have no Foxtel. I could be watching Gok Wan or the murder channel and I can afford it but my brother George has it and says he doesn't believe it's worth the money, most of the time.
So I exorcise and exercise my dark side by watching from the safety of my home, the crashes, the tragedies, the terrible weather, the human faults of pilots and the breakdown of infallible computers. I don't even gave to go to my "happy place ", I am already there. No interruptions, I lost my mobile today and I decide I am not replacing it. Phones and I, are like credit cards and I, not compatible. I have lost, wet, broken too many phones now. Mick Malloy refuses to have one, my daughter Yvette, same, my brother Ian and his wife in Darwin, gave theirs up. So if I don't find it too bad.
Meanwhile back to Aircraft Investigations and a healthy dose of 48 hours, hopefully it's a gory murder.
