Sunday, August 19, 2007


Last week I made another business trip to a small airport in bucolic middle-Virginia. The planes are pretty small here (wingspan up to seventy feet from tip to tip, I think). The first day I remembered that on each of the previous three trips, I had walked into a plane wing. The wings are just high up enough that I don't see them if I'm looking down or distractedly forward. I decided not to have this experience again, because I'm always afraid of damaging one of these planes and causing some delay in a schedule.

Hours later I came out of the bathroom and walked through the hangar while making a note in my PDA. I thought I was walking in the safe alley (tape on the ground tells you where to walk), but I wasn't exactly paying attention.


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