My brother and I were recently talking about some of the stranger, funnier moments in our lives. He told a story about his dinner visit to an Italian restaurant in Kioto, Japan, where he asked the waiter for some parmesan cheese for his shrimp fettuccini alfredo. Apparently, all condiments had to be approved by the French Chef, who came out of the kitchen to discuss his request.
Picture my brother (short, fat, bald, much less attractive than me), sitting at this nice Italian Restaurant in the heart of Kioto, Japan with a French, snooty Chef (who somehow missed the fact he was in Japan working at an Italian Restaurant) who told my brother, “You cannot have parmesan cheese; cheese never goes on seafood.” To which my brother, who is a bottom feeder, responded, “Is Ketchup out of the question then?”
And here’s my favorite…
His travels around Japan brought us to the subject of his airplane flight and another (yes, there are many) peculiar thing my brother does. He always buys airplane flight life insurance. Basically, how it works, for those of you who already know this is not a good investment, is that you pay 25 bucks to buy $1,000,000 worth of coverage so that if your flight (not future flights, just this one flight) were to crash and you die, your beneficiaries would receive $1 Million dollars.
My brother knows it is a terrible investment. I read once that you could fly for 26,000 years straight and the chances are you still would not crash, and even if you did, you would most likely survive. So to insure he does not die, on each flight he buys the flight life insurance. He calls it playing the odds; I call it stupid.
A 33 year old male in good health like my brother could purchase a $1 Million dollar policy for just $20.92 per month with level premiums for 10 years, rather than just having coverage for a few hours. And with a regular 10 year term policy, he could die any way he wants (excluding suicide)(including in a plane crash), and his family would still get the 1 million. For my hick brother in Alabama, that would include being run over by a John Deere Gator, being suffocated by one of his boa constrictor snakes, or accidentally shooting himself.
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Ha, ha, very funny. I did almost shoot Jenn the other day when we found a possum in our chicken coop. She was in charge of spotlighting the little guy and I was in charge of execution with my trust 12 gauge….unfortunatley, we kind of got in a crossfire where she was shining the light from one side and I eased around the other side to pop the little sucker. She claims to have felt some of the pellets around her legs, I just think she hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and got a chill about the time I delivered the fatal blow.