Ha! Write a column she says. It’ll be fun she says. It’ll be funny she says. Well, I am not laughing. It’s the 11th hour, or 15th, or 27th, I can’t exactly be sure. She (as in our beloved and oh-so-enthusiastic editor in chief and publisher, Rachel) has hit her head. I tried to warn her about the very dark and perilous path we were on - yes, that one where we attempt to put out a weekly news publication and a brand spanking new super-slick magazine, between Christmas and New Year’s. Did I mention that we haven’t taken on any new staff? And we are running this dubious enterprise, lock, stock, and barrel on a wing and prayer? Like I said, she hit her head.
Speaking of wings, that brings me to the subject of wing walkers. That is one thing that Joe Dahl saw in his daughter that was right on the nose. If you are not familiar with the phrase, a wing walker is essentially a pathologically insane human being who walks on the wings of airplanes, while they are in flight. Basically, they are daredevils. Wing walking is usually done by stunt actors. Rachel, on the other hand, does her own stunts.
Now a wingman (or wing woman, as the case may be) is a different animal entirely. In the formal sense, according to the world’s most reliable and accurate source of information, Wikipedia, a wingman is a pilot that flies behind and outside of a leader flying in formation. In the informal sense, it’s a friend that accompanies another friend in an activity that might otherwise be intimidating. Like life. Or starting a newspaper. Or printing a newspaper when print media is as rare as being brought flowers on a date - or an actual date, for that matter. Fortunately, at The Post, we have a special collection of wingmen that support us when things get intimidating and when our leader can’t fly in formation because she is busy wing walking. Which is pretty much always.
Then, there are wing nuts. I am not talking about wing nuts in the modern blogosphere sense or the old bucket of mismatched bolts and screws sense. Rather, the old-school term for slightly left of center, mad as March hare, and nutty as a fruitcake – as in C-R-A-Z-Y. Crazy. Well, that is me. Why? you ask. For joining this circus.
Now I have considered that if it weren’t for the bold actions of one dare devil in particular and the unending support she encourages, I wouldn’t be writing about any of this. So it’s possible that the best place for a wing nut to work just might be with a wing walker, even if doesn’t exactly lend itself toward reigning-in the cray-cray. On the upside, the expectation bar for wing nuts is relatively low. Also, one can dance to Body Groove in the shop like no one is watching (when they really are) because it’s already widely known that you are few bricks shy of a full load. And, when you crank out a column at midnight after trying to survive on coffee and stale jelly beans, no one is the wiser.
Happy New Year friends and don't be afraid to embrace your crazy. If you are brave, you might even try wing walking. Don’t worry, if it goes south, you can always rely on your wingman.
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