I want to comment on the piece of 777 wing that washed ashore recently. But first, I have this announcement: for days have had a snippet of the Paul Simon song Baby Driver running through my head. It isn’t even a song I like. I must have heard it unconsciously and now it’s stuck. It wouldn’t matter if it was a song I like, having it endlessly drift through my brain is irritating.
So this hunk of wingtip washed ashore, and they spent days wondering if it came off of the missing flight MH370 Boeing 777. I could have told them the first minute it did. How many 777’s are missing? if a chunk of wing falls off an airplane, they let us know right away. So, yes, Virginia, it is from the missing plane. And, yes, it means it crashed at sea. There is no other way to account for the luxurious growth of sea life on the fragment.
But mainly, I want to comment on the reaction of some of the people that had family or friends on that flight. Not all of them. But a few seem obsessed. They want to see and feel the piece. They seem to be thinking their people might still be alive somewhere. Huh? The airplane fell in pieces from a long way up. Or it came down on one piece hard enough to break into pieces. The passengers and crew would have been DRT.
Maybe they should make the wing part into a talisman, perhaps on a grassy knoll, so they can put flowers and prayer flags and stuff on it. It could be called the Shrine of the Barnacled Wingtip.
They do the same thing when a car crash kills people. Beside the highway, they erect monuments. Why? I thought most major religions taught that the body is a carrier, and the ‘soul’ goes away when it dies. So what does piling stuff beside the road or on the wingtip signify?
Anyway, that’s all I have to say about it.