Airplanes!

Did you know that an Airbus A-380 has a maximum takeoff weight of 1,200,000 pounds?  

A friggin' Million Pounds?

Did you know that it features more than 4,000 square feet of usable space?  Three levels?  

Even though I flew for a living back in the 1970's, as in more than 1,000,000 miles in the air, with certificate, I still can't quite comprehend how they do it.  An aluminum tube made by pissed of union members, flitting across the sky at 550 miles per hour.  At 42,000,000 feet.  On their way to a Riyahd.  Filled with people.  With two dozen more crew members and 5 pilots.  Really?

Did you know that same A-380's wings can bend more than 6 feet up or down before they come unglued?  I do.  

I should insert about here than I am terribly acrophobic.  That means I'm afraid of heights.  I actually wish I wasn't so tall.  5' 4" would have been just fine with me.  I need somebody to climb a stepladder to change light bulbs.  I once crawled on my hands and knees to the edge of the Grand Canyon for a peak over the side.  Just to say I'd done so.  Even though I didn't want to do so.

I actually studied the subject so intently at one time I could tell you how many rivets there were in a 707.  And a 727, and 737 and 747.  and L-1011 and DC-10.  Doing my own due diligence to make sure they're airworthy, doncha' know.

So flying is antithetical.  It goes against reason.  And common sense.  Why would anyone step into an airplane and hand their lives over to somebody they've never met?  I mean, did that guy or gal (or other) get laid last night?  Did he just get handed his divorce papers?  Was his Corvette just stolen?  We all know about 3% of the population is batshit crazy, is the pilot among that 3%?  How do I know for sure that he's in shape to fly my butt around the globe?

Remember that pilot who intentionally flew into a mountain in Switzerland a few years back?  Yeah, I remember that.  Here's the statistics:  There are about 1,200,000 commercial flights each year.  With a major accident, meaning loss of life, occurring about a dozen times.  Those odds against it being you is about 0.0015%  Or, you're three times more likely to be struck by lighting.

But you see, I don't care!  They wiggle, they wobble, they jump up and down, unannounced!  They shake, they roll, they sway back and forth!  And the pilot will come on the comm and say, "Slight clear-air turbulence there, folks!  Nothing to worry about."  

Easy for him to say!  He likes this stuff!  

Nope, flying used to be great.  No longer.  Now you have to sit for hours next to some hippie with a comfort chicken on his lap.  Or some sweaty 300 pounder who hogs the armrest.  Or one of those nervous nellies who wants to talk for the whole flight.

BTW, I discovered a way to choke off all conversation.  When your seatmate asked you what you do for a living, simply say:  "I'm a retired shepperd."  Or perhaps, "I majored in animal husbandry until they caught me at it."  Trust me, no more questions.  

When I was flying on a daily basis the plane was half full.  And the half who filled it were all wearing suits and carrying briefcases.  Now the planes are elevated versions of Greyhound Buses.  Packed from stem to stern with angry souls in seats half the size of those we enjoyed way back when.

Yes, it was expensive before the Gubmint stuck its nose into the mix.  Back when we faced fixed, non-competitive fares.  But the stewardesses (what they called themselves) were all 25 and lovely, the planes were all new and clean, and we felt like we were part of a club.  Now?  

Cattle. 

So I swore off.  No more flying commercial.  You have to go through screening, get felt-up by some 400 pound TSA agent, take off your shoes and put them on again, then fight for a seat slightly smaller than your seat.  

And then pray you arrive.  And if so, with your luggage.  I decided if I can't get there by train or by car, I don't need to go.  Just think:  a nice, leisurely drive to Mama's house.  No matter if it's 500 miles away.  You'll enjoy both the scenery and the freedom from being mistreated.  From being nudged, and bumped, and having your personal space violated.  You'll be in charge.  You can stop and stretch your legs, get a burger and take a pee.  Whether the seat belt sign's on or not.  And trust me, you'll see that pothole coming, so the bump won't be a surprise.  

I've been everywhere anyway, so it really won't matter.  

BTW, have you noticed there's been about a dozen airplane accidents in the past week or so?  Yeah, me too...