When you least expect it...

I flew a plane.

Not on PlayStation - a real one from WWII. With my head out in the open sky and my hands on the stick, the ground 1000 feet below and the real pilot's voice in my ears about how George Bush Sr had flown in that plane and how it was one of only four of its kind and two were in museums.

I restrained myself from trying any kind of crazy barrel roll in a lovely yellow fabric plane. Barely.

The bright sunshine beat down on us and there may have been a comparison between me and the friend who flew before me. She seemed timid and needed to be talked into it. But I'm not shy.

And when someone asks if I want to try the controls - I suppose you'd just better be prepared for me to take you up on it.

It's a little funny because I'm not sure that was even an item on my bucket list. But now I've done it, and it was awesome.

And of course there's a little voice whispering inside that I ought to figure out exactly how to work that into a story somewhere. Because that's always what's happening inside somewhere.

I'm similarly inspired by the friend who helped me into the plane. I love the no-nonsense approach to safety, and how everything is matter-of-fact when it comes down to execution. I love it because she's short and sweet and directly to the point, and that she cut through any long droning speeches that tend to get lost when the brain cuts out. At least my brain.

I know I'm not the only person for whom boredom spells trouble. I promise to ask questions if it didn't sink in the first time.