Imagine being at work in Midtown Manhattan and out of the corner of your eye you see a commercial airliner barely clear the George Washington Bridge on its way to plunging into the icy cold waters of the Hudson River. People in New York, especially since 9-11, have seen the most unbelievable instances that could easily resemble domestic terrorism. First the the blackout, then the baseball player, Cory Lidle, crashes his plane into the apartment building. Then you get a plane filled with 150 people crashing into the 34 degree water and everyone lives. I basically live my life on hyperbole. It's the basis for every joke I tell. In all seriousness though, everytime a plane takes off, I feel with absolute certainty that the plane is going to crash. I'm not kidding. It's true. I breathe heavy, my heart races, and I sweat profusely. I have such anxiety over take offs. If I were in this plane there would've been one fatality because there is absolutely no chance I could've crash landed in milk chocolate flavored river without having an aneurysm or a massive heart attack. I heard on the news that the pilot usually gets sued when planes crash because of some sort of pilot error. If this guy gets sued, I'll dedicate the rest of my life to making sure that person regrets litigation.
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