Speaking of potential mishaps, heres a phrase that apparently the airlines simply made up: near miss. They say that if two planes almost collide its a near miss. Bullshit, my friend. Its a near hit! A collision is a near miss.
[WHAM! CRUNCH!]
Look, they nearly missed!
Yes, but not quite.
Back to the flight: As part of all the continuing folderol, Im asked to put my seat-back forward. Well, unfortunately for the others in the cabin, I dont bend that way. If I could put my seat-back forward Id be in porno movies.
Theres also a mention of carry-on luggage. The first time I heard this term I thought they said carrion, and that they were bringing a dead deer on board. And I wondered, What the hell would they want with that? Dont they have those little TV dinners anymore? And then I thought, Carry on? Carry on! Of course! People are going to be carrying on! Its a party! Well, I dont much care for that. Personally, I prefer a serious attitude on the plane.
Especially on the flight deck, which is the latest euphemism for cockpit. I cant imagine why theyd want to avoid a colorful word like cockpit, can you? Especially with all those lovely stewardesses going in and out of it all the time.
By the way, theres a word thats changed: stewardess. First it was hostess, then stewardess, now its flight attendant. You know what I call her? The lady on the plane. These days, sometimes its a man on the plane. Thats good. Equality. Im all in favor of that.
The flight attendants are also sometimes referred to as uniformed crew members. Oh, good. Uniformed. As opposed to this guy next to me in the Grateful Dead T-shirt and the FUCK YOU hat, whos currently working on his ninth little bottle of Kahlúa.
Safety First. Mine!
As soon as they close the door to the aircraft they begin the safety lecture. I love the safety lecture. Its my favorite part of the flight. I listen very carefully. Especially to the part where they teach us how to use the seat belt. Imagine that: a plane full of grown humansmany of them partially educatedand someone is actually taking the time to describe the intricate workings of a belt buckle. Place the small metal flap into the buckle. Well, at that point I raise my hand and ask for clarification.
Over here, please,
over here. Yes. Thank you very much. Did I hear you correctly? Did you say place the small metal flap into the buckle, or did you say place the buckle over and around the small metal flap? Im a simple man, I do not possess an engineering degree, nor am I mechanically inclined. Sorry to have taken up so much of your time. Please continue with your wonderful safety lecture. Seat belt. High-tech shit!
The lecture continues. The next thing they advise me to do is locate my nearest emergency exit. Well, I do so immediately. I locate my nearest emergency exit, and I plan my escape route. You have to plan your escape route. Its not always a straight line, is it? No. Sometimes theres a really big, fat fuck sitting right in front of you.
Well, I know Ill never be able to climb over him, so I look around for women and children, midgets and dwarfs, cripples, elderly widows, paralyzed veterans, and people with broken legs. Anyone who looks like they dont move too well. The emotionally disturbed come in very handy at a time like this. Its true I may have to go out of my way to find some of these people, but Ill get out of the plane a whole lot quicker, believe you me.
My strategy is clear: Ill go around the fat fuck, step on the widows head, push those children aside, knock down the paralyzed midget, and escape from the plane. In order, of course, to assist the other passengers who are still trapped inside the burning wreckage. After all, I can be of no help to anyone if Im lying in the aisle, unconscious, with some big cocksucker standing on my neck. I must get out of the plane, make my way to a nearby farmhouse, have a Dr Pepper, and call the police.
The safety lecture continues: In the unlikely event . . . This is a very suspect phrase, especially coming as it does from an industry that is willing to lie about arrival and departure times. In the unlikely event of a sudden change in cabin pressure . . . roof flies off!! . . . an oxygen mask will drop down in front of you. Place the mask over your face and breathe normally. Well, no problem there. I always breathe normally when Im in an uncontrolled, 600-mile-an-hour vertical dive. I also shit normally. Directly into my pants.
Then they tell me to adjust my oxygen mask before helping my child with his. Well, thats one thing I didnt need to be told. In fact, Im probably going to be too busy screaming to help my child at all. This will be a good time for him to learn self-reliance. If he can surf the fucking Internet, he can goddamn, jolly well learn to adjust an oxygen mask. Its a fairly simple thing: just a little elastic band in the back. Not nearly as complicated as, say, a seat belt.
The safety lecture continues: In the unlikely event of a water landing . . . A water landing! Am I mistaken, or does this sound somewhat similar to crashing into the ocean? . . . your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device. Well, imagine that. My seat cushion! Just what I need: to float around the North Atlantic for several days, clinging to a pillow full of beer farts.