After buckling your seatbelt, the pilot's voice comes in over the airplane intercom. Let's listen in ...
Why, hello there, folks! May I call you "folks"? I'll be your pilot today. What? Am I "qualified" to fly this jalopy? You betcha! Why? Because I'm a mom, that's why. No, I don't know what all these switches and handles and whatnot are. I don't CARE what they are, to tell ya the truth. The important thing is that I'm ready, I'm willing, and (wink) I'm eager as heck to get the job done! THAT'S what matters. Doncha think? O-kay then. Here we go!
Whoops! Whew. That's a lotta noise. And just a teensy bit of fire back there. But what the heck, right? It's fuel, and energy happens to be my specialty.
What? Who's that fella yellin' over the radio? Air traffic control? Well, who the heck cares? No, honestly, really: Who cares? I sure as heck don't, and I don't think my passengers do either.
What's my heading? What's my heading? We're on the right track and we know where we want to go, that's for darn sure.
No, I'm not going to give you my "bearings," or whatever it is you call those little numbers. Look here, Buster, I might not answer those questions the way you or the other pilots might like. But you know what? I'm going to talk straight to my passengers here, without the filter of any darned air traffic controllers or FAA or whatever the heck you all are calling yourselves now.
I mean, how good can you guys be at your jobs, anyhoo? There are just a heck of a lot, I mean a HECK of a lot of plane crashes all the darn time. So real people like me and my passengers figure it's time for some fresh air in this whole flying business anyway.
What? What are you saying there in your fancy-dancy tower down there? We don't have towers like that on Main Street in Wasilla, buster, you can bet your life. Nope. Just a whole heck of a lot of common sense, which is all too rare in this world today, doncha think?
And if I can handle a crying baby and ban a book and milk the federal government for all the pork my little town can hold, all at the same time, then for cryin' out loud don't you think I can fly your darn little airplane?
What? are you TALKING again? Saying that most crashes are due to pilot error? Like, because the pilot didn't KNOW stuff?
There you go again with your LOOKING BACK. We'd rather look FORWARD where I come from. But then, heck, I guess that's just the darned difference between you and us, isn't it? But you're a good talker, though. I'll give ya that.
Why aren't I changing my heading to zero-one-niner as instructed? Because I'm the mommy, that's why, Mr. Smarty-Pants. I think I've got enough sense to know when to turn a darn airplane.
What's that? Raise flaps? Raise FLAPS? Raise flaps or we'll CRASH? There you go again, raising the white flag of surrender just when we ....
1 comment:
I got this from my sister in law:
From my retired Ninety-Nine United Airlines Captain friend.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After buckling your seatbelt, the pilot's voice comes in over the
airplane intercom. Let's listen in ...
Why, hello there, folks! May I call you "folks"? I'll be your pilot today.
What? Am I "qualified" to fly this jalopy? You betcha! Why? Because I'm
a mom, that's why. No, I don't know what all these switches and handles
and whatnot are. I don't CARE what they are, to tell ya the truth. The
important thing is that I'm ready, I'm willing, and (wink) I'm eager as heck to
get the job done! THAT'S what matters. Doncha think? O-kay then. Here we go!
Whoops! Whew. That's a lotta noise. And just a teensy bit of fire back
there. But what the heck, right? It's fuel, and energy happens to be my
specialty.
What? Who's that fella yellin' over the radio? Air traffic control?
Well, who the heck cares? No, honestly, really: Who cares? I sure as heck
don't, and I don't think my passengers do either.
What's my heading? What's my heading? We're on the right track and we
know where we want to go, that's for darn sure.
No, I'm not going to give you my "bearings," or whatever it is you call
those little numbers. Look here, Buster, I might not answer those
questions the way you or the other pilots might like. But you know what? I'm going
to talk straight to my passengers here, without the filter of any darned
air traffic controllers or FAA or whatever the heck you all are calling
yourselves now.
I mean, how good can you guys be at your jobs, anyhoo? There are just a
heck of a lot, I mean a HECK of a lot of plane crashes all the darn time. So
real people like me and my passengers figure it's time for some fresh air in
this whole flying business anyway.
What? What are you saying there in your fancy-dancy tower down there? We
don't have towers like that on Main Street in Wasilla, buster, you can
bet your life. Nope. Just a whole heck of a lot of common sense, which is all
too rare in this world today, doncha think?
And if I can handle a crying baby and ban a book and milk the federal
government for all the pork my little town can hold, all at the same time,
then for cryin' out loud don't you think I can fly your darn little
airplane?
What? are you TALKING again? Saying that most crashes are due to pilot
error? Like, because the pilot didn't KNOW stuff?
There you go again with your LOOKING BACK. We'd rather look FORWARD where I
come from. But then, heck, I guess that's just the darned difference between
you and us, isn't it? But you're a good talker, though. I'll give ya that.
Why aren't I changing my heading to zero-one-niner as instructed? Because
I'm the mommy, that's why, Mr. Smarty-Pants. I think I've got enough sense
to know when to turn a darn airplane.
What's that? Raise flaps? Raise FLAPS? Raise flaps or we'll CRASH? There you
go again, raising the white flag of surrender just when we ....
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