What happens in Vegas...
...is gonna wind up on this blog, I can tell ya that right now.
It's time, once again, for a "Grannies Gone Wild" weekend...and we're doin' it up big, this time. Big.
Really big. As in Las Vegas Big. With a capital 'B', even.
We're flyin out on the 28th and coming back on the 31st. Three nights and four days in Sin City. WhooooHooooo!
But see...the thing is...well...I've never flown before.
In an airplane, I mean. Or a helicopter, either, for that matter. There was that one time...I dropped that tab of speed...
It's not that I've been terrified of flying, you understand. It's the crashing that's always scared me shitless. That and the total, absolute lack of control I'd have. It's not like I can tell the pilot to stop so I can get off, ya know.
My life, for those few hours, will be totally and completely in someone else's hands.
I'm not real tickled about that idea.
But I figure...what the hell. I'll be 56 friggin years old next week. I've lived a good life.
And I'm gonna hit up my doc for a coupla Valium...just in case.
A commenter just reminded me that flying to Vegas entails flying over the Rocky Mountains. Now, all I can think of is the movie
And, didn't the whole
Thanks, Randall. LOL