What's wrong with everyone else? Don't they know what's going on around them? Don't they realize how lucky they are to be able take part in this engineering marvel? So what if the seats are close together, or the meals are not gourmet. Who cares? To be able to travel for just hundreds of dollars, anywhere in the world, you should be proud. You should be thankful. You should never complain.
Airline food is great! I love it. I always have. I don't know what all the complaints are about. In fact, I often find the morning omelets served at 39,000 feet to be the tastiest on earth! Sometimes, I'll ask for another. The flight attendant always looks puzzled at my request. Yes, I want another. And there are those around me not even eating their one. Yum Yum. For the record, Northwest has the best omelets. And if you're on a flight where meals are not served, but only snacks, Delta serves up some great hot chicken fingers in a bag. Mmmmm again. I wasn't expecting anything on a short two hour flight to Orlando. But chicken fingers at night, over the swampy lands of the southern US, are a real treat. And when Southwest Airlines comes around serving "just" peanuts and pretzels, they show you a big basket and say "here, take as much as you want". Now, that's service! So, I'll take five bags. That's good for at least 400 miles. And they do it with humor and fun. Southwest is great.
Flying on an airliner at night with the little overhead lights on, and the cabin dimmed is almost romantic. Cozy and inviting. I can only imagine what the atmosphere is up in first class, being wined and dined in a plush chair. Certainly they're not complaining. But again, no one is looking outside. I was one such night. For two hours my eyeballs glued to the glass as a long string of thunderstorms exploded and popped and illuminated the entire route just south of us. Light bulbs flashing on and off, one at a time, or all together as a volley of fire, pounding some place down there over Wisconsin with enough violence to send people scrambling for their basements, or maybe even a Tornado shelter. Wow. How could anyone not be interested in what I was observing that night? Then when our big ol' DC-10 started shaking, vibrating, dropping and rising suddenly, everyone started to look out. Drinks rattled. Glasses tinkled. Window shades went up, then quickly down, as to hide the fear of the dark outside. My arm would get pinched between the wall and the armrest, as the big jet's hull twisted, shook and wiggled. This was great! What fun! And just look at those storms outside, 50 miles away, but stirring up the air we were rocketing through.
Or the time when I was a kid, and went to the upper deck of our World Airways 747-200, to gaze far below at the deep blue and bright white quilt that lay under us. For as far as the eyes could see, it looked as you could get out and stand on these little patches. They weren't little, it was the Arctic in June. June, 1976. I'll never forget it. The sun went down to the horizon, held there for an hour, then went back up. I was running through the isles of this huge machine. An hour earlier, I was airsick, and now, as happy as could be. A few hours later, as I gazed out at the wing and those mighty engines, all flexing and bouncing in the chop, as we let down through the clouds, over the green rolling hills of the English countryside, dotted with cottages. I'll never forget it. That is the magic of flight. So powerful, the vacation that lay ahead meant nothing to me. I wanted to get back on the plane to fly home, I didn't want to wait two weeks to see my 747 again!
The airport lay close ahead. We were still high, maybe even 5000 feet. Another 757 slipped gracefully underneath us. Now, with it to our left, I could feel our 757 pitch down. People panicked. What could be wrong as they went weightless for a moment? Then came a loud roar and vibration. The speedbrakes rose up, out of the wing. The gear came thumping down. The slats and flaps were whining and grinding. The lady next to me muttered something about God and I told her what a fun approach this was! She thought I was nuts. I told her I was a pilot and not to worry, that this is all normal and sometimes the pilots have to make rapid descent over a populated area, to keep it quite below. I don't know if it helped or not, she still said she didn't like it. My father and I were having a great time. Speedbrakes still extended to about 1000 feet, and then down. We were heaving up and down slightly in the summer thermals. DTW's pavement was getting close. I was hoping it would be a fun landing. Over the threshold. Nose rising, power off. Nose still coming up. Hmm. Floating! Yay! Then we fell like a rock. BOOM. The seats shook, people grunted. The overhead bins rattled frantically. The spoilers sprung to life and the reversers opened up and roared their loudest - enough noise and vibration to rattle out some loose fillings. Then the brakes were applied - so hard I was straining to keep from being thrown into the seat in front of me. All the noise and G-forces lasted for only six seconds and we had decelerated to less than 30 kts. Those pilots really wanted to have fun! Or maybe, it was just because DTW was packed that day and had another jet on a 1 mile final as we rolled out. As soon as we cleared the active, it was touching down. Ground roll after the float couldn't have been more than 2500 feet. Great fun! Yahoo! I wanted to go back for another. Everyone else just wanted a drink.
Once again, I write another piece about something you all out there already know. It's fun to do so. Next time you're sitting in the back of an airliner going somewhere and you see someone looking out the only window that's open besides your own, it's likely to be me. Or another flightsimmer, or pilot. The rest of 'em don't even deserve to have a window seat.
