Flying high over Tupelo, Mississippi, with America’s hottest band … and we’re all about to die.
No, that isn’t how it happened, but, like ESPN columnist Bill Simmons, I’ve always wanted to start an article that way.
The part about being in a plane was true. And the thunderstorm visible from my window seat was eerily reminiscent of Almost Famous, blasts of electricity continuously ripping through the sky outside, off past the starboard flank of the aircraft. I wasn’t, however, touring the country with a bunch of up-and-coming rock stars, though I had been in the midst of some just a few hours earlier.