I Love$ You

photo: Brandon Herman via Tiny Vices


"They've gotten control of the cabin, and they've killed a stewardess. People are panicking. They're throwing up. I think we're going down, but don't worry. It's going to be quick."
-- Peter Hanson, aboard United Airlines Flight 175, along with his wife, Susan, and their two-year-old daughter, called his parents on Sept. 11, 2001.

"I love you. Sleep well, my sweetheart. Please don't worry too much."
-- Mountain climber Rob Hall, trapped in a blizzard on Mount Everest in 1996, called his pregnant wife in New Zealand. His legs were frozen; he didn't have a tent or sleeping bag.

"Mom, there is a fire in the tunnel. I think I am going to suffocate and die here. Mom, I love you."
-- A woman trapped in a subway fire in Korea in 2003 called her mother.

"Please be happy. Please live your life. That's an order."
-- Brian Sweeney called his wife from a hijacked plane on Sept. 11, 2001, and left a message on her answering machine.

via Globe and Mail

It's holidays like Valentines Day that make having a friend who is the manager of a restaurant deemed one of the best in the country very convenient. It is however, not so handy having Valentines Day arrive a day before payday, like it always does, reminding the have nots of their plight in life, and that yes, even love can be bought if you've got some dosh to spare. Oh god, I know the argument that it doesn't require money to make a difference on Valentines Day, please spare me. I am in no mood for invention and spontaneity with 11 cents in the bank and a stomach that's been fed a steady diet of Campbell's tomato soup for the past two days, although I must admit that it does wonders for the waistline. I haven't got a bloody date anyway. So I finally threw in the towel this afternoon by phoning my friend and cancelling the private table in the basement that they let friends have on occasion for charming the pants off your date with an informal dinner, and dammit you can smoke down there too.

I can't get this article that I read in the Globe and Mail on the weekend out of my mind. It was a compilation of transcripts from phone calls that people made before they died. Who would you call? Who would be the last person you would want to talk to? I wondered about who I would call, then I realized that I don't have a cellphone. Fido wouldn't give me one without a 250$ deposit on account of my credit history. I'd have to die old school. Alone.

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