"You're small, so even if we do crash, your momentum will be less than mine and you probably wont get hurt much." he said, either deliberately trying to make me cry or genuinely trying to use logic to calm my hyperventilating frame. I burst into tears, the airplane hit another pocket of stomach disrupting turbulence, and he looked mortified. Must have been trying logic, then.
Logic has its place, of course. Western science is all about logic, these days. We discover things because we reason they are there, then go looking for them, like the not-quite-a-planet Pluto. We discredit feeling, don't believe in magic, and control the masses with media and ignorance. I'm not saying that my traveling companion had the wrong idea. He is absolutely right- momentum does depend on mass, most of the time, and since we were coming down to the landing strip, I very likely would have only presented bruises to the emergency response teams.
Still, all options considered, I would have preferred a hug and an insincere "we're going to be ok."
I'm not much of a scientist for someone about to graduate (magna cum laude, beeteedubs) with a Bachelor's in Science, specifically biology. I enjoy writing, foreign languages, philosophy and dance far too much for the typical left brained drudge. I'm not terribly logical, throwing myself into the emotion of the moment more than I should. I love the magic of being alive, the sense of connection I have to the world, and the competition of conquest. I'm riddled with an excessive desire for the spotlight, where I may someday become a famous rock star. A classmate of mine tells me I look like a faery on a day to day basis.
Yesterday, my flight landed so smoothly that I could hardly believe we were really rolling down the Seattle tarmac.
It may be an omen.
I'm looking forward to tomorrow.
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