The Art of Flying

[General Spoon]

The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say on the subject

of flying.

There is an art, it says, or rather, a knack to flying.

The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and

miss.

Pick a nice day, it suggests, and try it.

The first part is easy.

All it requires is simply the ability to throw yourself forward with

all your weight, and the willingness not to mind that it's going to hurt.

That is, it's going to hurt if you fail to miss the ground.

Most people fail to miss the ground, and if they are really trying

properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it fairly hard.

Clearly, it is this second part, the missing, which presents the

difficulties.

One problem is that you have to miss the ground accidentally. It's no

good to deliberately intend to miss the ground because you won't. You

have to have your attention suddenly distracted by something else when

you're halfway there, so that you are no longer thinking about falling, or

about the ground, or about how much it's going to hurt if you fail to miss

it.

It is notoriously difficult to prise your attention away from these

three things during the split second you have at your disposal. Hence most

people's failure, and their eventual disillusionment with this exhilarating

and spectacular sport.

If, however, you are lucky enough to have your attention momentarily

distracted at the crucial moment by, say, a gorgeous pair of legs (tentacles,

pseudopodia, according to phyllum and/or personal inclination) or a bomb

going off in your vicinity, or by suddenly spotting an extremely rare species

of beetle crawling along a nearby twig, then in your astonishment you will

miss the ground completely and remain bobbing just a few inches above it in

what might seem to be a slightly foolish manner.

This is a moment for superb and delicate concentration.

Bob and float, float and bob.

Ignore all consideration of your own weight and simply let yourself

waft higher.

Do not listen to what anybody says to you at this point because they are

unlikely to say anything helpful.

They are most likely to say something along the lines of, "Good Heavens,

you can't possibly be flying!"

It is vitally important not to believe them or they will suddenly be right.

Waft higher and higher.

Try a few swoops, gentle ones at first, then drift above the treetops

breathing regularly.

DO NOT WAVE AT ANYBODY.

When you have done this a few times you will find the moment of

distraction rapidly becomes easier and easier to achieve.

You will then learn all sorts of things about how to control your flight,

your speed, your manoeuvrability, and the trick usually lies in not thinking

too hard about whatever you want to do, but just allowing it to happen as if

it was going to anyway.

You will also learn about how to land properly, which is something you

will almost certainly cock up, and cock up badly, on your first attempt.

There are private flying clubs you can join which help you achieve the

all-important moment of distraction. They hire people with suprising bodies

or opinions to leap out from behind bushes and exhibit and/or explain them

at the critical moments. Few genuine hitch-hikers will be able to afford to

join these clubs, but some may be able to get temporary employment at them.

[Le Communard]

HEY, THATS MY HANDBAG FROM ATHENS!

[General Spoon]

HEY, THATS MY HANDBAG FROM ATHENS!

<3

[Crysta]

Aww. That sort of cheered me up and now my work day doesn't look so bleak.

Worrying about splattering all over the floor sucks.

[Inactive Account]

I wonder if the realization that you don't know where your towel is would provide sufficient distraction?

[Balcerzak]

Ah ... ! What's happening?

Er, excuse me, who am I? Hello? Why am I here? What's my purpose in life? What do I mean by who am I? Calm down, get a grip now ... oh! this is an interesting sensation, what is it? It's a sort of ... yawning, tingling sensation in my ... my ... well I suppose I'd better start finding names for things if I want to make any headway in what for the sake of what I shall call an argument I shall call the world, so let's call it my stomach. Good. Ooooh, it's getting quite strong. And hey, what's about this whistling roaring sound going past what I'm suddenly going to call my head? Perhaps I can call that ... wind! Is that a good name? It'll do ... perhaps I can find a better name for it later when I've found out what it's for. It must be something very important because there certainly seems to be a hell of a lot of it. Hey! What's this thing? This ... let's call it a tail - yeah, tail. Hey! I can can really thrash it about pretty good can't I? Wow! Wow! That feels great! Doesn't seem to achieve very much but I'll probably find out what it's for later on. Now - have I built up any coherent picture of things yet? No. Never mind, hey, this is really exciting, so much to find out about, so much to look forward to, I'm quite dizzy with anticipation ... Or is it the wind? There really is a lot of that now isn't it? And wow! Hey! What's this thing suddenly coming towards me very fast? Very very fast. So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide sounding name like ... ow ... ound ... round ... ground! That's it! That's a good name - ground! I wonder if it will be friends with me?

[Inactive Account]

Oh, no, not again...