Airborne, I'm looking out the port side window of an all too small turboprop airplane. Less than six feet from my seat the wing mounted engine spins the attached propeller at a massively high rate of speed. Suddenly it occurs to me that the slightest stress fracture or flaw in said propeller's design could send it hurtling through the fuselage and directly into my body. My sleep deprived mind wonders at the similarity of the cloud shrouded landscape below to that of a huge miniature (oxymorons yay!) someone has constructed using looooots of spun cotton candy to simulate cloud cover.
Paranoia aside. I've landed safely at SFO. In flight music? Behemoth - Evangelion. Nearly the perfect running length...and blastbeats are fucking brutal whilst suffering through turbulence and small aircraft waggle.
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