You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
An aircraft vanishing off the face of the planet.
It seems impossible, like not seeing a two-and-a-half men re-run on cable.
The news question of the day: Where is flight 370?
It’s almost been 2 weeks.
In a world of geosynchronous orbits and GPS smart phones, this is a world-class who done it.
We often think of our world as being so small. We often think of it as an interconnected instantaneous Facebook post. We think of belching our brains into the ether 168 characters at a time.
TWEET.
We seemingly live in a world where we are all connected by six degrees of separation from actor, Kevin Bacon.
And then flight 370 disappears like an episode of LOST.
Suddenly we are connected to thin air. We have nothing to grasp at but cosmic straws.
How does an airplane fly off the grid. I’ve seen Mission Impossible 6. The spies can tell if Tom Cruise has a hangnail from Jupiter.
In the world we all think we live in, flight 370 is being tracked by a mustard spilling nerds playing dungeons and dragons in their basements.
But in the world of Lost? The plane vanishes.
This is a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes.
It’s so mysterious you wonder if UFO’s intervened.
In 9 1 1, when planes crashed into cornfields and skyscrapers, passengers turned on cell phones and made calls to loved ones.
There was a recorded history of the catastrophe. We knew there was a coordinated hijacking. We knew that planes were being forced to crash. It was sad, but simple.
Terrorism.
In this Malaysian mess, not one single report of trouble.
If the passengers were alive, don’t you think someone would have alerted someone about something?
200 plus people and everyone turns their phone off at take off?
That in itself is a mystery.
The plane banked hard left, and then rose to 45,000 feet, above the recommended ceiling.
Not a single call.
It’s as if the mythic mysteries of the famed Bermuda Triangle suddenly shifted to the Indian Ocean.
Did the pilots depressurize the cabin incapacitating all the passengers?
That would explain the quiet void of inter connectivity.
And if the plane crashed somewhere in the ocean South West of Australia, well, good luck.
That will be like finding a brain cell in a UCLA frat house.
Sorry Bruin readers, couldn’t resist.
The search area is massive. It’s only half the bottom of the planet. And the Malaysian Government has been slow to ask for international help which has given any debris field lots of time to sink or float away on rough seas.
The world is fascinated by this tragedy.
Partly because it is a bona-fide global mystery. Is it terrorism? Is it pilot suicide? Did the plane land at some Alqaida boot camp?
In a world where Instagram knows if Brad Pitt passed gas on a movie set, the loss of hundreds of souls on a jet aircraft is almost unimaginable.
It would be nice to solve this mystery. It would be nice for the families to start planning funerals and making final arrangements.
But with not a word, not a clue, not so much as a seat cushion floating on a peregrine wave, it may be some time before the relatives of the souls aboard flight 370 can begin to heal.
Life’s crazy™
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