I rarely fly, mainly because everything I need can be found in the four corners of Oklahoma. This place is home, and I love it here. However, not so long ago I attended a safety conference in Orlando for work. It's not something I would normally choose to do but it is all part of the grand plan in feeding my family, so I rolled with it. There is nothing in the world as boring as waiting on a plane except maybe waiting on paint to dry. So, while I waited, I played a little game with myself I like to call "pick out the people who have had the most plastic surgery." At one time that game consisted mostly of women in their sixties, but now can include everything from men to women as young as twenty. At that age isn't everything still pointing up? Women are obviously far more self-conscience than men, that's why you will never see a woman playing air guitar in front of a mirror in her underwear. And as far as men go, I don't think I could spend quality time with anyone who is that vain. Nobody wants to attend a rodeo with a buddy only to find out that the ring on his back pocket isn't from a snuff can but instead a compact mirror so he can regularly check his hair.
The only two people in the world who are less interested in "the safety features of the Boeing 747" is the stewardess who was delivering the instructions and the guy next to me who smells like he took a bath in Axe body spray and had already drunk ten of those mini-Jack Daniels bottles before take-off. He was snoring even before they lowered the flaps. The stewardess was so bored with her own instructions I am pretty sure I saw her yawn but try to hide it. She might as well have been giving a talk on social graces to the National Baseball League because I am certain nobody was listening. It's nearly impossible to drink tea with your pinky extended and scratch yourself at the same time, if you disbelieve my premise just try it sometime.
Tell me this, how does my seat cushion (and I quote) "BECOME a flotation device." Does it actually go through some kind of weird metamorphosis once it leaves my hind quarters? I am not easily grossed out but the thought that there have been more asses in that seat than a QuikTrip toilet is rather off-putting. I might just be better off taking my chances were there to be (to borrow another term) "water landing." But common sense tells me that in order to land one must use the landing gear, so don't they mean water CRASH? And just to clear up another misnomer, what the hell difference does it make if my seat back is not in the upright position for take-off or landing? I'm no pilot but I am certain a five-degree incline in your seat won't make much difference if we go into a six hundred MPH vertical dive. And if your tray table is ever in the down position, you better not have a bag of peanuts on it, these days that is punishable by one hundred lashings with a Payday candy bar.
Another perplexing term they are using on airlines these days is "award winning lavatory." What exactly is entailed in making an award-winning restroom? Does the blue water just fall right out of the sky once you have made your transaction so that the smell of apple-cinnamon potpourri stays intact? If so, American Airlines is going to have to pay the FAA a hefty fine. Have they simply installed a duvet like they have for English royalty? I never did visit the facilities but the guy next to me did and he assured me there wasn't a disco ball. That was a relief.
Airlines love to perplexing terms like PREBOARD. Just exactly what does that mean, can we board before we board? They use it like this: "those with disabilities and children under five will now be allowed to pre-board." They also like to say things like, "in the event of a drop in cabin pressure an oxygen mask will drop down, and you should put it over your face and breath normally." I have never tried to breath when I am in the panic of a lifetime, do you suppose it's possible? I suppose they feel it is their job to keep our minds off the fact that we are traveling at 35,000 feet at a rate of 500MPH in nothing more than a glorified aluminum tube lined with seats. BUT if they ever try to tell you that your flight is totally booked and that there will not be any more available seats, they are lying. There is still one left in the award-winning lavatory. I heard that little red button above the sink, if pushed, plays Staying Alive. Now, what do you suppose I did with my leisure suit?
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