Donovan – 1966
This will not be me today, because I am a terrible flyer. No, I do not speed up and down the aisles screaming about the things I see on the wing, and I don’t need to be sedated. But my anxiety always leads me to underestimate how much time I have to be somewhere and I’m almost 99 per cent always late. That’s a lot of times to be late to the airport. And then I’m practically exploding and simultaneously melting down while waiting in line to check my bag(s).
Don’t get me wrong, I love going to different places. Culture, food, most of all, not being *here*. It’s that in between bit I could for real do with out. So when they invent transporters, guaranteed I would volunteer to be the first idiot to try them. Even if they make me smaller on the other side (which has its benefits). Or a fly gets trapped in the transporter with me and I end up with some sort of weird fly like deformity, a la Jeff Goldblum (of course I wouldn’t get a cool deformity, like just the wings, so I could then fly myself to places and eschew the middle man altogether).