Robert Plant was on my airplane from Dallas to Seattle, back in ’90. I know, weird, right? His band mates, as well. I can’t remember if they were going to play somewhere, or heading away from playing anywhere, or why they didn’t take a private jet. I was 16, on my way home early from Thanksgiving vacation so I could dance halftime at the Great Alaska Shootout, I THINK (but I have blocked out most of my childhood, so even this; EVEN. THIS. is fuzzy). They told my mom not to worry, they’d take good care of me (she wasn’t flying with me. but she almost bought a ticket right then)

They were very funny, and signed a T-shirt for me (and yes, I’ve always lamented the whole “not Led Zeppelin” part of the story), and then we boarded the plane and they all crashed before takeoff and I never saw them again.

Still, tho…

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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