X-Sender: simon@mailserv.waikato.ac.nz
Mime-Version: 1.0
Date: Mon, 10 Feb 1997 20:19:27 +0100
To: simon
From: spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
Subject: Crash and Burn
Status: RO

So I'm crashing and burning in a big way. The sad thing is I know it. And even worse, she knows it too. But it's one of those looooooooonnngg drawn out crash and burns involving lots of tedious small talk before you can slip quietly and unnoticed away to kill yourself in the toilet with a Ginsu Steak Knife that gets hand delivered to you there because you've told the postman exactly what you're going to do with the next one if he delivers it..

It's the social equivalent of running out of fuel at 30,000 feet in a plane with stall protection - all you've got to look forward to is a very public plummet into the prestressed cement of the social pavement very far below.

So of course I go down noisily, taking as many people with me as I can, not pausing to look back, write a message to loved ones, or go to the bar for half a bottle of Jack Daniels.

...

Later, when I'm sober, I pick through the smoking remains of my memories in search of the mental black box to find out exactly what the hell happened.

Voices seem a little blurred and mixed up. Everyone's on a high, no-one knowing what's coming up...

Then I hear it, the first slight faux pas, barely noticed by those around me, but equipped as I am with sensitive hindsight, I know a danger sound when I hear it.

"GIDDAY BIG TITS, FANCY A PIECE OF THIS?!?!? >ZZZZZZIP!<"

I can hear the mental alarm siren "PULL UP, PULL UP!", but sadly in my panic it appears I am unable to regain control of the situation, compounding my problems with:

"NICE MOUSTACHE ON YOUR FRIEND THERE, IS SHE AUDITIONING FOR A BLOKE-ONLY MUSICAL??"

All hell's broken loose on the flight deck and the first sound of impact can be heard as I take a knee to the balls.

Still struggling to regain control I hear the last ditch attempt: "HEY! JUST JOKING GROUCHO!"

More impacts can be heard, groin a couple of times and face at least once, the recording loses some of it's quality here. It's inevitable, I'm going down...

Only suddenly the obstacles are removed, there's a repreive and I can attempt to glide the crippled pickup out the door and as far away from the bar as possible!!

Too late the warning clang alerts me that the bouncer is Grouchos boyfriend and he's approaching in my slipstream at a rapid pace...

The rest of the tape is blank and I rely on the bathroom mirror to inspect the wreckage....

There were no survivors..