I’m an airline captain, and I have to work tomorrow, and I am a *little* excited, of course. I love my job. I’m good at it, which is more than I can say about a lot of the other things I do. I love aeroplanes, and the jet I fly at work is a really cool one. Once the plane leaves the ground, I can actually feel all the bullshit in my life shrinking away into the background at four hundred miles an hour. I work for a small company, and I know all my first officers. The guy I’m flying with tomorrow is an intelligent and respectful young man with a clever sense of humour, and I’m looking forward to hearing about his antics on his time off.
I love flying. Of course I’m excitied. I feel bad for people who get bored with it. They’re probably smarter or less easily entertained than I am, but whatever. Sure there are times I’d rather stay at home, or times that work gets a little tedious, especially the paperwork part, but for the most part when I’m getting my plane ready in the morning, I feel like I’m right where I belong.