My friend Lance called this morning. He has been having far too much fun mocking me in regards to the recent Donut Disappointment.

If I have to suffer through another apple fritter joke…THAT’S IT!

However, I have been steadily needling him to get back to flying. He had a license when he was younger, but in the great scheme of life, saw fit to let it lapse.

“You should get back to flying,” I would say.

“I know. I know. I miss it, actually,” he’d reply.

And then…

“So Lance, when are you going to quit making excuses and work on that lapsed license?”

“Yes, yes. Geez.”

And then…

“So…about flying…”

“Good grief, you’re making feel guilty.”

Today he called on my cell and, after a few minutes of donut depravity, started talking about flying.

Of course, there were the requisite spook stories, stories of sudden fog and icy runways… “I had to follow that road right into Leonard. Wow. That was scary, actually.”

I remained numb at the other end of the line.

He continued, “…but yeah, I really miss flying. I was at Valley Fair and on those high rides and it was like flying…yeah, I definitely gotta get back to it. I just need you to keep needling me.”

I am an excellent needler. I excel at guilt creation. I am working up a complex plan involving well-placed emails and text messages in which I will wreak havoc on Lance’s mental well-being until he gets down here to Bismarck and gets to work on it.

I have noticed that, upon telling someone what I am doing when they have pushed me for information, the general response (particularly from males) is: I always wanted to fly.

So, do it. And don’t be Lance and let it lapse.