mr enter has the fucking funniest complaint about this movie i’ve ever heard
You’re a rowdy grandma on a plane somewhere over PA at the turn of the millennium. Strong men with boxcutters have seized control of your flight. They do not seem to have plans to survive whatever they’re moving towards. You, and everyone aboard, believe your fates are sealed unless someone intervenes. You’ve been twisting your bracelet, because you believe you can resolve this scenario. Fortunately, you chose an aisle seat so you don’t need to crawl over anyone to approach the front of the plane.
The ruby at the heart of your bracelet has been with you since you were a child. It’s been smashed and slashed all of your (somewhat adventurous) life. It has always looked as pristine as the day you received it. And despite its resilience and strength, it shatters to dust the moment you apply a hint of pressure, and your panda is free in a cloud of red.
While you have communed with your panda, you have never made peace with it. Your panda represents rage, fury, even in your later years those pins still burn. But your panda is still you, and you can steer yourself forward.
You lunge, and the floor lunges with you. The plane dips—only for a moment—but your panda is unfamiliar, clumsy. You continue to lunge forward, tumbling through the door, crashing through the cockpit. You fall.
The plane falls with you. The amateur pilot could adjust to the shifting weight of your dashing rage, but the loss of a windshield was not covered in his limited training.
The plane hits a field in the middle of nowhere, taking the passengers to their grave.
You double-jumped shortly before you hit the ground and only fell a couple of feet.
Later, you would tell your friends you had missed your flight (darn train!) and didn’t bother rebooking in the chaos of the day. You wouldn’t see your panda again until your trip to Toronto, 2002.
(via unity-birdposts)
