Sometimes, Shit Happens

There are certain risks inherent in the life Lithus and I live. More for him, in his helicopter every day, than for me, but some that I share with him. Being on the road, or in the sky, as often as we are, sometimes, shit happens.

The flight from NOLA to Salt Lake this past weekend was...bumpy. My seat belt caught me on the upswing more than once. There were a couple diagonal drops. I wasn't scared ~ but I probably should have been, at least somewhat, in retrospect. 

Our pilots were seasoned professionals. All's well that ends well. Beverage service was even resumed. But it was a reminder: sometimes, shit happens.

Often, after someone has died in an accident, the response is "at least they died doing what they loved." I have never understood this and have always called bullshit. I promise you ~ the person didn't want to die in the climbing/skiing/sky diving/riding accident. They wanted to go right on living in order to do more of that thing they love. And I still believe that.

I also have a slightly different perspective after however many years on the road. Should shit happen ~ should I go down in a helicopter, or a plane, or off a logging road somewhere ~ will I have wanted to die? Oh hell no. But...But I love what I do. I love all the time spent traveling. Heading from one place to the next. Driving the roads that make you laugh and ask "Is this really a road, or are we breaking trail here?" Being on the small airplanes where they ask you your weight before loading, so they know they can take off. Long travel days that include two flights, a sketchy cab, and a long drive thrill me. And oh, being in Lithus' helicopter. I swear to you now, there is nothing ~ nothing ~ better than that.

At one point during the flight last weekend, after a particularly dramatic diagonal drop, I reached over and put my hand in Lithus' hand. Again, I wasn't scared. But I had realized, even if this went badly, I was where I wanted to be, with the person I wanted to be with. Right place, right person. It was a beautiful certainty in a moment of uncertainty.

And so, dear friends, should shit happen, rest easy. Know I died happy, doing what I love, with the man I love. 

(But I'm still planning on dying at 86 when I'm shot by a jealous wife, so don't worry too much about it...)