Flying

At least once a day, at work, I imagine myself flying. It’s not intentional, I just find myself walking, and glancing up at the white cork tiles, and I can almost feel them against the top of my head, one after another, each one popping up for just a second as I skim along the ceiling. When I picture myself flying, it’s never like Superman, with arms out front and body horizontal. It’s more like the Mario Bros where he has a raccoon tail, and he can fly by spinning it around. He stays upright, and just rises and rises until he bumps his head on something. If you really get him going, he sort of vibrates against the ceiling. Once in a while, there’s no ceiling and you can fly him all the way up off the screen. I remember flying Mario off the screen, and worrying that he was gone forever, so I’d let my thumb off the control for just a second, just long enough for him to drop back into view. I have yet to have a moment on the job where I imagine flying with no ceiling, just up and up and off the screen for a second. I always know my limit, even when imaginary. Flying, sure, but flying above the ceiling? Come on, let’s not get crazy. Once in a while, Mario could shoot fireballs, but you had to choose. Fireballs, or flying-tail. It’s a tough choice I made for Mario a hundred times. Sometimes he needs fire. For myself? It’d be the tail, every time. I don’t wanna burn anything down; I just need, once in a while, to float up out of view.

Favorite toys from childhood: Evel Knievel Stunt Cycle; Star Wars figures; Etch-a-Sketch; Jeans Beans; Atari 2600; Hot Wheels Thundershift 500; Ghost Gun