I Hate Flying

I don’t so much fear flying as fear crashing. What I hate is being crammed into an aluminum tube and hurled across the country at 500 miles per hour. My flight today had a female pilot, which I much prefer. I don’t give in to stereotypes, but am pretty sure that unlike their male counterparts, female pilots are: 1. Much more nurturing, so one assumes less likely to blow off some critical task on the pre-flight checklist 2. less likely to have a drinking or habitual drug problem 3. much less likely to have a heart attack (but more likely to have a stroke) 4. Probably won’t be distracted thinking about whether their spouse will find out about last night’s indiscretion with a flight attendant.

Speaking of which, how much less can these in-flight waitresses do? Since the airlines have cut service back beyond the bone, flight attendants don’t have anything to do on a 4+ hour, cross country flight except toss out soft drinks and stand in the back complaining they don’t get paid enough and griping about their customers. Really, being a stew these days is akin to training someone to be a firefighter, then having them spend all of their time running a paper towel machine in a public restroom, waiting for it to catch on fire.

The in-flight movie was computer animated abomination that had Tom Hanks acting about 37 parts against a green screen …which was then animated to tell the story of a kid who gets yanked out of bed in the middle of the night by a Hanks character on the promise of being taken to the North Pole. Much too NAMBLA for my tastes…