When the plane takes off, it's always kind of anticlimactic for me. I mean, I want a long scarf around my neck, aviator's goggles and the wind in my hair. I want to hear the sound of machine gun fire ripping into the wing, flak blanketing the sky, and bombs dropping. It's like the question they always ask you at the gate: "Would you like a window seat or one on the aisle sir?" That's a stupid question with me because I don't want to sit either place.
"Ball turret Gunner please," I always answer. "I wanna ride the bottom of the plane in a glass bubble with two huge guns at my disposal. Can you accommodate me? Super. Thank you."

And just so you know, when a random flight crashes between St. Louis and Texas later this morning there won't be any need for an investigation. "Delta Airlines Flight 104 went down this morning just outside of Atlanta in a fiery crash that claimed hundreds of lives," the news commentator will soberly report. "The crash is being credited to the daring young Ball turret Gunner of American Airlines Flight 1303 who skillfully cut their tail section to pieces with his .50 millimeter cannons."