I hate flying. I thought it was awesome as a child, but as I got older a mild aversion turned into a full-fledged phobia. Although I’m slightly (and I do mean SLIGHTLY) better now, there was a period of several years in which I flew frequently and basically had to be rendered unconscious by combination of tranqs and airport liquor in order to get through take-off without going into cardiac arrest (it’s a miracle I never got arrested for taking a swing at an attendant, Courtney Love-style). Several psychiatrist-type people have asked me if this started after 9/11, clearly hoping to cure me by identifying the root of my fears (as if it was that easy), but no. I was scared well before that. All it did was further bolster my conviction that really terrible things are liable to happen if you step on to a plane. If a faulty engine, drunk and/or incompetent pilot, bad wiring, or freak weather system don’t get you, then terrorists hell-bent on your destruction probably will. Sigh. I’m aware of how sounds ri-goddamn-diculous this all sounds, but isn’t that the way with phobias? They tend to be irrational by definition.

With all of this in mind, I’m sure you can predict my answer to this one. It’s a resounding “No!” Aside from the fact that I don’t want blood on my hands (not even that of random strangers), the thought of killing people in one of the ways I most fear is giving me a stomachache. I think that’s my conscience talking, not just 3 cups of coffee making themselves known.

- Lauren

PS - Did I mention that I’m flying today? Yup. I guess I picked this dare (and accompanying graphic photo) as a kind of aversion therapy. Chin up, face your fears, and all that nonsense. Groan.

There exists no reason nor any amount of money for which I would place a bomb anywhere ever. I’m just anti-murder like that.

- Kali