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Many years ago when the internet was new and cell phones weren’t in our pockets yet, I boarded an airplane to make a Christmas-time visit to Mom in Wyoming.
As we were on approach to landing the plane, the events of the following days would reach back into time and make me upchuck the boogie.
That’s right.
I threw up on the plane.
Okay technically I threw up on the kid sitting next to me because I didn’t get to the barf bag in time.
My initial thought was that a combination of the chicken lunch and the inbound turbulence caused the regurgitation.
After all these years, I’ve realized it couldn’t have been the chicken. Anyone who flies on an airplane knows that the fish will get you sick before the chicken does.
Instead, it was Rabbit Voodoo.
You see, a few days after that flight I found myself out on the prairie assaulting rabbits with shotguns and snowballs. Later that day, I had an unfortunate encounter with a cheeseburger flavored pizza festooned with inappropriate toppings.
I’m now convinced that one of those rabbits I assaulted took a long, hard look down the timeline and saw the pizza I’d be eating later that day. It then performed a bit of lagomorphic temporal divination, pinpointing the exact moment in my recent past when my dignity could be most effectively compromised by a surprise repatriation of that pizza.
Thus, the incident on the plane.
It wasn’t the remains of a chicken lunch that landed on that kid’s pantleg. It was the pizza from a few days into the future.
At this point, you’re thinking one thing.
“Tell me more.”
Glady.
The lurid details around that hunt and the pizza that followed were recounted on this very site many years ago.
Where the unfortunate incident on the airplane is concerned, you can read about it in my first book, The Outback Diaries. Follow the links below to get your copy today.
