As I lay in the machine, head in a vice, encased in a magnetic conical white tube, with the sound of horseshoe clopping and a space ship's engine, my mind went instantly to Star Trek: Wrath of Kahn. Spock dies, sniff, sniff, and his comrades place him in a large black case which I can only imagine felt like the inside of an MRI machine. He is propelled to the pre-pubescent planet named Genesis (the planet was born of a torpedo, don't remember the details, but it ages quickly. I believe he is dropped on it when it was still experiencing terrestrial pimples). After a 45 minute equestrian sci-fi ride, I was finally pulled out of the MRI machine feeling like the dead but thankfully still of this world.
We'll see what kind of embarrassing pictures result from this brain scan in a few days. I know I have a brain at least (yes I do doubt this once in a while) and it must be fairly big since it took 45 minutes to take. Or maybe the length of time was simply an inability, on the technicians side, to get my cranium to smile. I told Chris I'd make sure to give the camera a tight mouthed grin, but I guess that must have been insufficient.