They did a story a little while ago on NPR’s This American Life about which power a person would opt for if given the choice between flight or invisibilty. They said that it was surprising how quickly people made their choice - as if they’d been thinking about it for a long time.

They would definitely be right in my case - I used to have a very realistic recurring dream in which I would be gliding through the air, drifting gently downwards like a single feather on the air currents; then bouncing back off the ground right before touching it - as if someone had blown upwards from below the feather. Like a rock skipped across a river. Or like the earth was a trampoline. Or a parachute with springs. Usually I don’t even remember my dreams but this one was crystal clear. Went on for years; every now and then.

Flight - that’s all I’d want, too. I don’t want to be Superman - that’s just too much with the super-strength and the super-speed and the heat-rays from the eyes and the super-cold-breath. I mean, really, get the hell out of here. It’s unrealistic, implausible; just ridiculous. I’m for Hawkman. Can’t do nothing but fly. And not only that - he uses a sword, shield, and mace to beat people with. Not even a super-gun for him. Just the ancient laws of mortal combat and weapons that force you to go right up and look your enemy in the face. Mano-a-mano.

Soon as I can start flying, I’m gonna work out a little bit, take some Tae Kwon Do, and read up on the laws and statutes of Asheville and Buncombe County. Then, just fly around over the mountains with a metal trash can lid in one hand and an empty bottle of champagne in the other - ready for wacking. If I see anyone stepping out of line: boom, that’s it. No questions. You don’t mess with Hawkman.