Still reading Beginning of a Hero, by Charles E. Yallowitz, this week. Our hero, one Luke Callindor, is not having much luck yet dealing with the Lich, but has assembled an actual D&D party at this point, consisting of Luke, the “forest tracker”, which appears to correspond to a D&D Ranger; Nimby, the halfling thief; Fritz Warrenberg, the gnome illusionist from, apparently, Germany; and Aedyn the half-elven cleric. They are also being assisted by a “drite”, which seems to amount to a faerie dragon, right down to its use of a confusion-inducing breath weapon. (There is a very slight possibility that I still have most of the old Monster Manual memorized.)
So this week I’m reading a free Kindle book called Diary of the Displaced (Omnibus Edition), by Glynn James, in which an unfortunate fellow visits a gas station bathroom and then wakes up in a nightmarish alternate dimension populated by zombies, dog-things, giant snails, and a deranged dual-knife-wielding maniac who I suspect may be Jack the Ripper. I’m pretty sure he’s not Moonglum of Elwher; he’s much too tall. Anyway, if you needed another reason to avoid gas station bathrooms, there you go.
So a few weeks ago we were between Netflix discs (“The Heat” had gone back, “Pacific Rim” had not yet arrived), and while looking through the list of streaming movies one evening, I noticed that “Flight” was there. I’d been interested in seeing that for a while, and my wife is a fan of Denzel Washington, so I decided to start watching it, which led to a conversation that went something like the one described below: