Between the envelope and gondola I'm lighter-than-air. Montgolfier-style? Not really. I ascend as a prayer with his eyes wide shut, timid in the feel for heaven. Speaking of heaven, some say it's no longer a gated community, but the association fees have doubled. Really I float like a Yost, flaming onboard for the photo shoot. The morning pass is for the kids with spending power. The noon move, and media darling, catches the Comic-Con crowd just stumbling out of a parent's basement. The night drift, drink in hand, mimics the trigger man who got his days confused from too much killjoy. Laissez-passer both giveth and taketh away -- there is no immunity in the sky, no amnesty to assign my crimes to. I'm just your smiley actor on the Netflix trail. You love me for a season or until my balloon gets popped. Whichever comes first.