Crock’s Thoughts

Sooo… when most people think about their dream vacation, they’re kinda thinkin’ tropical beaches, fruity drinks with little umbrellas, all-inclusive resorts, or maybe a quiet cabin tucked away somewhere in the mountains.

I mean, don’t get me wrong… anyone who knows me, I’m a Jimmy Buffett-singin’, beach-goin’, toes-in-the-sand kinda guy. 😎 Give me sunshine, warm weather, a cold drink, and absolutely nowhere I need to be, and I’m one happy camper.

Well… technically, beach bum. I don’t really
want to camp. There’s no room service! 😂

But if we’re driving completely off the highway and taking the exit toward Fantasy Land Vacation… well, yeah… forget the beach!

I’m spending my PTO in a galaxy far, far away. You know… Star Wars!

Now, before anybody starts handing me a flight helmet and yelling, “Red Five, standing by!” we need to establish a few ground rules.

Yeah, I am NOT participating in the Death Star attack! Lol! Nope! Nada… like not happening! That’s WAY too much responsibility for a vacation! Just saying… 🤷

I can already imagine my out-of-office message:

“Thanks for your email. I’m currently away from my desk attempting to hit a two-meter exhaust port while being chased by Darth Vader. I’ll respond when I return… assuming I return.” 😳😂

Yeahhhh… hard pass!

Besides, I work in aviation. I already know what happens when somebody says, “Don’t worry, it’ll be easy.”

Just give me a nicely tuned-up X-Wing fighter, a full tank of whatever the heck an X-Wing runs on, and a wide-open patch of deep space. Toss in a few TIE Fighters so I have something to chase around, and I’m good!

Yeah, no saving the Rebellion. No destroying planet-sized space stations. No listening to some ghostly Jedi voice telling me to turn off my targeting computer.

Ummm… excuse me, Obi-Wan? Say wut? In aviation, we pay good money for that avionics equipment. So, I’m leaving it ON!

I just want to zip through the stars, fire a few lasers—pew! pew! pew!—pull some ridiculously unnecessary high-G turns, buzz a Star Destroyer or two, and then head back to base in time for pizza and beer. 🍕🍺

You know… vacation stuff!

But the absolute best part of this vacation package? R2-D2!

Yep, my little trash-talking trash-can robot would be sitting directly behind my head in the astromech socket, providing continuous flight assistance… along with completely unsolicited commentary about my piloting skills.

I can already hear it!

I botch a simple deflection turn…

WHIRRRRR—BEEP-BEEP-BOOP-WAAAAAH! 🤖

Me: “Oh, shut up, R2. I’d like to see YOU fly this thing!”

BEEP!

Me: “What do you mean you have?!”

And you just know that little bucket of bolts would be judgmental, too!

Miss a shot?

Bleep-bloop!

Land a little hard?

BEEEEEEEP!

Accidentally bump into something while backing the X-Wing into the hangar?

WHIRRR-BEEP-BEEP-BLOOP!

“R2… nobody saw that.”

BEEP!

“DON’T YOU DARE PUT THAT IN THE FLIGHT LOG!” 😂🤣

Yeah, forget sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on some crowded beach with sand in places sand was never intended to go, sipping a $17 lukewarm cocktail while somebody’s kid launches a beach ball into my face.

Put me in the cockpit, strap me in, hand me the flight controls! Give me four laser cannons, a hyperdrive, a galaxy to explore, and one sarcastic little astromech riding shotgun.

And preferably GPS, too! Because… ummm… knowing me, I’d make the jump to hyperspace, miss the destination by three star systems, and R2 would spend the next hour reminding me about it.

Bleep-bloop!

“Yes, R2… I KNOW I MISSED THE EXIT!” 🤦‍♂️😂

Anyway, now that is a vacation!

Although knowing my luck, I’d return the X-Wing to the rental counter and hear, “Sir… we noticed some laser damage on the port stabilizer.”

Ummm… that was already there… 😇🤷😂