Me, no. But I’ve wanted to! Wouldn’t it be fun? We could all have our own. We’d be like celebrities buying up tiny islands in the middle of the ocean. Only with planets in the middle of the universe. Perhaps if Science actually got off its ass and invented some decent space and time travel our dreams could become a reality. Then having your own planet will be like the Tamagotchi of the 22nd century.
See, it doesn’t happen that often but whenever I fly over mountains in an airplane I sort of feel like the Ruler of Earth. Zooming through clear blue skies I stare down at rocky vistas and snow-capped peaks in dazed wonder. Frost freckles on the window and steamy clouds blur my view, but nothing keeps me from staring and staring and staring and staring into the icy abyss below.
It’s trippy to let your brain slip back into neverending question mode: How long have the mountains been there? How did they get there? How many places like this are there? And how long would I survive down there before being eaten by that Abominable Snowman from the Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer Christmas special?
Just kidding about that last one.
He was a friendly snowman, remember?
Yes, flying over mountains reminds us all how tiny and fragile our lives really are. Because you’re dead soon, buddy! And brother, so am I. But when we’re flying way up high through that great big blue-black sky it’s like our dreams and our dreaming just survive and survive and survive.