Monday morning, the chartered King Air will lift off from my local airport with three guys as passengers, one of whom will be me. They'll fly us over to another state and a place to which we've willingly paid too much to hunt whitetail deer. Of course, that's not the only consideration for the payment; we also will be fed and "watered", especially with the fine, brown-colored stuff in the evenings. They'll haul us out to the stands, haul us back, retrieve, clean and process our deer, cook our meals, wash our dishes, pour our drinks, make up our beds, and smile and be nice to us no matter what. Why? Because we have paid for that luxury. Of equal importance is what they won't have - squalling kids, honking horns, or cell phones ... and we don't come back until Thursday afternoon. Now, don't get me wrong. I like working for the deer I shoot here at home. That's part of the fun. However, that in no way detracts from the fact that I'm gonna enjoy the livin' heck out of myself next week. They said the maximum range at which a buck might present a shot is 200 yards. Whew! Sure am glad I have a .300 Win Mag! Better not forget my data book and ballisticard! ;f "Please return the stewardess to her original upright position." Ahhhhhhhh.