Learning to fly.

For years, you’ve seen your trusted Crotty Farm Report scribe driving hither and yon in the fabled Crius on long-distance Odyssean treks. It took a lot of psycho-spiritual preparation and the calm, loving reassurance of a fellow Monk, but on Tuesday, September 2, 2024, on a nonstop American Airlines trip from LAX to Omaha, I took my first flight in years. And without any “pharmaceutical support.” Like a true punk monk, I like to solve problems straight edge and direct to the source.

Here’s my first attempt at raw dogging—staring straight ahead on a flight sans beverage, food, music, TV, reading material, or any distraction. It’s what the young-uns call going “Zen.” It’s what we OG Monks call being a total no-frills badass. Try it sometime.

Thanks to everyone who helped me overcome my fear of flying, especially his eminence Sir Michael Monk (nee “The Earl”), pictured below with his signature painting, “Bullseye.”

Reykjavik, Dublin, Copenhagen, Berlin, Zurich, Barri, Dubai—here I/we come!