fire fuel combustion

"Could I get another scotch and water please, make it two" he said to the sky waitress with a stealy glaze of nervousness all over his face. Flying was never one of his strong suits, but Mr. Jameson knew that if he did not fly this time he would miss the show. He told himself long ago that flying was going to be a problem in the future. Something about being so high in the sky while riding on such a heavy piece of machinery made him feel the need to imbibe somewhat. It used to be beer, but now, and after so many trips to the show, he has been prescribed more effective means of treatment. The beautiful woman returns and says with a perfect smile,"here you go sir, your favorite." He still had three hours to go before landing. The ways he saw it, there would be no landing. Mr. Jameson's idea of landing always consisted of fireballs bursting high in the air with his alcohol laced blood acting as fuel for the fire. LLc 98.2