We know from a neighbor of the co-pilot as he was growing up that flying was his one and only dream. All of his career moves were meant to get him into the pilot's seat. He wanted to fly. And he got there, he was realizing his dream. Sometime during this, he acquired a medical ailment that would, if known about, prevent him from flying. He hid this illness. On the day of the crash, he had been declared by his doctor as "unfit to fly". But he flew anyway. His mind must have been roiling. As he struggled with a future of broken dreams, and went down the spiral into desperation, an opportunity presented itself, the pilot left the cockpit. In the co-pilot's desperate mind, he saw an out. Go out flying. And in his desperation, I believe his mind was solely on himself and his life. I don't believe that the souls sitting behind him even entered into his mind.
That's my story. In it, it doesn't matter if the illness is mental or physical, because I don't believe that has anything to do with what happened. It was going to prevent him flying. That is what mattered. Pure, sane, ambition and dreams.
In the course of talking to Doc about it last night, I also came up with the most wrong joke I think I have ever come up with. It is so wrong that I dare not even tweet it. With my luck it would be the one tweet that would go viral. I can't chance that. It is that wrong. I'll type it here, because you guys know me. You know I'm not really heartless, and that my brain just pops up with stuff with no regard for anyone else and I usually edit it when it comes to this. "I went hiking in the French Alps and all I got was this lousy foot." Don't judge me. I'm not going to teach it to a frat or post it on 4chan or reddit. It just popped into my head and Doc and I were fucked up enough to laugh at it, we are both sick puppies when it comes to humor.
We had decided to go to the Bellagio early this morning. But he slept until almost 11, then picked up the computer. So I went back to sleep and woke up at three. It's now the heat of the day. And he's asleep. I don't know weather to be pissed or not. I'm sorely tempted to grab the fiver off the table and go myself. But that's not really protocol around here. That would get me a BOLO and a likely ride home from the cops. No thanks.
I think I will go out for a smoke and then come in and see what Pinterest has to offer in the way of new Photoshop tutorials.