When you wish...
While halfway watching the first half of The Bucket List and feigning an appropriate half-hearted interest, I got to thinking about terminal illness. I have, at times in the past, exhibited an extraordinarily terrible immune system, as in the case of having concurrent mononucleosis and pneumonia, and also in the case of getting mono again a couple of years later. That, coupled with the general prevalence of cancer, will keep me unsurprised if I get it. So making my own 'bucket list' is just appropriate forward thinking.
In terms of the days leading up to my assured and untimely death, I wouldn't be so simple as to go jumping out of planes or swimming with dolphins or having threesomes. If the Make A Wish Foundation came to me and asked me what my last wish was, I could tell them plainly: as I imagine it, I'd fly straight to FBI headquarters in Washington D.C. and apply for the job of first-in-line badass. I'd quickly get as much training as possible (probably in the cargo bay of a plane en route to a location in need of some badass assistance), and then I'd be on-call as number-one-entrant into the craziest situations the country had to throw at me.
Say there's a high-rise hostage situation a la Die Hard—I'd be the first one in, stripped to my underwear and ready to negotiate, no bull. Then, depending on how that went, I could decide whether or not to negotiate the hostages to safety or to just break the hostage-taker's arms and choke him out. Or, I could be the bomb squad's designated package opener. Suspicious package in a subway station? I'll take it to an open field and open it. It would be like the most suspenseful Christmas ever.
In a world where one of our biggest enemies comes in the form of suicide bombers, we could even counter with our own suicide operatives. If I was on my way out anyway, I'd be the first to sign up. Whether it's mob infiltration, anti-pirate ship-ramming, or trekking through the Pakistan hills looking for a knife fight with bin Laden, just let me go out on a high (and useful) note.
In terms of the days leading up to my assured and untimely death, I wouldn't be so simple as to go jumping out of planes or swimming with dolphins or having threesomes. If the Make A Wish Foundation came to me and asked me what my last wish was, I could tell them plainly: as I imagine it, I'd fly straight to FBI headquarters in Washington D.C. and apply for the job of first-in-line badass. I'd quickly get as much training as possible (probably in the cargo bay of a plane en route to a location in need of some badass assistance), and then I'd be on-call as number-one-entrant into the craziest situations the country had to throw at me.
Say there's a high-rise hostage situation a la Die Hard—I'd be the first one in, stripped to my underwear and ready to negotiate, no bull. Then, depending on how that went, I could decide whether or not to negotiate the hostages to safety or to just break the hostage-taker's arms and choke him out. Or, I could be the bomb squad's designated package opener. Suspicious package in a subway station? I'll take it to an open field and open it. It would be like the most suspenseful Christmas ever.
In a world where one of our biggest enemies comes in the form of suicide bombers, we could even counter with our own suicide operatives. If I was on my way out anyway, I'd be the first to sign up. Whether it's mob infiltration, anti-pirate ship-ramming, or trekking through the Pakistan hills looking for a knife fight with bin Laden, just let me go out on a high (and useful) note.
posted by Peter at
6:20 PM
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