My really real birthday (II)

I realized on Saturday, that it was in fact me who had paid for the party, in a round about way. We were on the way to a city called yang yang by bus, as I cannot ride the bike now. My wife had lured me there under false pretences, of which I had no idea at all. Underway she told me that my real birthday present (as I had received from her on my birthday only 1 party and otherwise only 2 pairs of socks) was a joy flight over the seorak mountain range. One of the very few things that my wife doesn’t know about me is my second great fear in life. The first is chickens. she knows that, she would never have given me a chicken for my birthday for the way I just hate and fear their beady little chicken eyes and beaky little beaks, their whole chickeny little heads, barely disguising their malevolent ideals. Nasty, vicious little creatures bent on chickening me to death. You can just feel it from them. Eagh! God I hate chickens and always have. The only other things on this earth that truly frighten me are light aircraft. If it was a chicken I would have cried and admitted defeat right then and there, but as she had put so much effort into organizing it and keeping it from me for it to be a surprise, and she was sooooooooooo keen and had no idea of my fear of light aircraft, I chose to say nothing apart from ‘bubba, I love you and thank you’. I would come to regret that.The whole journey to yang yang she was happy and gay, but just as we arrived she asked of me “what’s wrong?” I told her that I had been in light aircraft but twice before and both of those experiences had impressed upon me a perfectly rational fear of flying. I don’t suffer from it in the bigger aircraft, or at least the large amount of room to move and the cuties serving free gin and tonic, and the gin and tonics themselves go a ways to assuaging that perfectly rational fear. this fear is not like (don’t make me say it again) chickens. Fear of chickens is irrational, fear of flying is not. I know this.