Nearly every time I fly, I think about dying. It’s not entirely a bad experience. I consider it my time to make my peace with mortality.
I also consider it time to imagine myself improbably falling through the air towards my death outside the plane.
If I had my phone in my hand, I think, what would I do with it? Would I hold the headphones against the wind to my head to listen to a final song? Or would I try to send a final SMS to my loved ones?
Every time I read about airlines finally adding Wi-Fi to planes I can’t help but think: it won’t be that long before we can read emails and instant messages from someone about to die as their plane falls out of the sky.