Flying the Friendly Skies

Recently, I've tried to make sense of what I call airline logic, and I've come to the conclusion that I'll probably never understand it.

For instance, those of us who are afraid to fly would appreciate it if the industry would choose the words they use more carefully. I mean the first thing you see when you enter airport property is the word TERMINAL!

If that isn't enough to make you nervous just look at the language used on those flight information monitors, hanging from the ceiling. On them you'll read about flights that are on FINAL APPROACH. You'll also read about different flights where your city is the FINAL DESTINATION. Let me tell you, these are not terms that ease the anxiety of fearful passengers!

Sometimes even the names of airlines are scary. Remember Total (as in when one totals one's vehicle) Air? Frankly, I don't want total air. I want a total airplane, the kind where everything that is supposed to work does work and a competent pilot, preferably a sober one, is at the controls--if you want to have a little fun the next time you fly, when a flight attendant asks for your drink order just say that you'll have whatever the pilot's having.

And let's not forget the now defunct Hooters Air. You know, the airline that was a part of the Hooters Restaurant chain. Hmmm, Hooters Air, what was their slogan anyway? Maybe I don't want to know. I never did see any of their jets but my imagination has run wild with the possibilities for their paint job. The positive thing about Hooters Air was if your flotation seat (we'll discuss the folly the flotation seat in a minute) should fail, just grab a flight attendant--she'll keep you afloat better than a May West life jacket.

Some airlines have toyed with the idea of serving frozen microwavable pizza to its passengers. Now, I don't have a problem being served Tony's Pizza or even Red Baron Pizza. But I do draw the line on being served a TOMBSTONE pizza, especially while flying on Total Air!

Another thing, the next time I fly from Orlando, Florida to Denver, Colorado, I don't want to hear about how my seat will float should we be forced to land in the ocean. First of all, I'm thinking, "this must not be a direct flight." Really, what ocean lies between Orlando and Denver? It would go a long way to ease my fears if flight attendants would tell me about a seat that's going to bounce out of a farmer's field!

And I have never quite figured out the purpose of those emergency landing instructions. Passengers are instructed that during an emergency landing they are to put a pillow in their laps, bend over, and put their heads into the pillow, face first. What is the purpose of that, to muffle their screams before hitting the ground?

Notice I used the term "emergency landing." That's what the industry calls it. Losing control of a jet at 33,000 feet in the air, at the speed of 500 mph, and ending up on the ground in tiny pieces does not constitute an emergency landing. No in my book that's a CRASH!

Oh, and by the way, if by chance you survive an emergency landing and you happen to be sitting by an emergency exit (which is an industry sugar-coated term for a way to get the @#%*! out of here before the thing blows up!), you're instructed to pop open the door and help everyone else out before you disembark. Riiiiiiiight. You know, I'm a pretty nice guy, but I can't see me standing at the emergency exit of an airplane, one that has just performed an emergency landing, and saying to several hundred people that I don't even know, "I ain't got nothin' to live for, why don't you go first?"

No, I'll never understand airline logic, but maybe it's just as well. If the day ever comes that I do comprehend it, I may start traveling via the ashen dog--Grey Hound.