The tickets are bought and paid for, the travel dates are set, the itinerary is scheduled, the trousers are brown.

Flying isn’t among my favourite things. As far as my favourite things are concerned, flying is down around the bottom of the list, just above colorectal surgery and being eaten alive by fire ants.

It’s not the flying itself I’m afraid of, it’s the returning to the ground as flaming wreckage part I don’t especially care for. There’s nothing that tops the feeling of overwhelming relief that washes over me as soon as the plane touches down on the runway. Sure, we’re still going a couple of hundred miles per hour, buckled down over a massive, highly-combustible fuel tank, but at least we’re on the ground. If the plane chooses that particular moment to crash, explode, and roast us, we’d end us just as dead as if it had happened 30,000 feet up. It would be bad, but it wouldn’t be horrible. Being on solid land makes all the difference, trust me.

It takes a lot to get me on a plane. Especially one from an airline called US Airways. I understand it’s a respectable carrier, but seriously, these days they might as well be called Air ShootUsDown. Adding additional terror to my fear of flying, we’ll be routed through Philadelphia, which adds a whole extra takeoff and landing to the trip, not to mention two more hours in the air.

But the cause is just. An important business opportunity calls, and someone else paying the tab helps me hear that call loud and clear. The destination is Dublin, Ireland. The project is a show I’m not at liberty to discuss at this time, it being in the early stages of development and all. Nevertheless, my uniquely black sense of humour has gotten me drafted, and at last my abilities in the sick and twisted department may be taken full advantage of.

Much as I’d love to share additional details with you and drop some unsubtle hints about what I’m up to, I don’t have the time. I’ll be leaving in twelve hours, which gives me just enough time to get no sleep whatsoever.

See you next week, barring any euphemistically termed “unscheduled water landings.”