airplane, autopilot, disaster, blow up, joystick, panic, nowhere place

Do you go into autopilot?

When was the last time you tried to charge your phone by putting it in the fridge? Or maybe you put your wallet in the petrol station bin and trotted off to the tills to pay using the bag of rubbish still clutched in your hot little hand? Have you posted your keys instead of a birthday card?

What percentage of your life do you spend on autopilot? And, by the way, when you are on autopilot, where has your brain flown off to and what is it doing while on holiday? As life fills to bursting with joy and stress and anxiety, is this some kind of cerebral survival technique? When heads get too full perhaps consciousness takes flight for a while to preserve capacity. Or – Oh God – it could well be the opposite: some sinister indication of failing faculty. But we’re not going to think about that, although maybe we should take up elasticity-encouraging Sudoku to massage the grey matter into motion.

Those tiny misplacings are unnerving enough, but what about when autopilot makes you look actively insane? Like saying, “I love you” at the end of a CONFERENCE CALL???????? Or smiling absently at strangers in the street because your brain has just decided to disconnect itself from your face? Then there is giving the wrong name when you introduce yourself which is truly peculiar. But happens.

This variety of autopilot may be reputation compromising but at least it isn’t life threatening. Like drifting off to the nowhere place when driving at 90mph and then returning only to think, “Where did I go and how am I still alive?”

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