What is going on with the airlines?
I’ve gotten older, and now my eyesight, hearing, memory and response time aren’t what they used to be — and they want to make me an air traffic controller? Seriously?
And what is going on with the rampers? (You know, the guys with the long red flashlights.) Their job is to coordinate the movement of planes on the ground. I looked at one of them and I swear, he looked so dumb I don’t think he could find his hind end with both hands and a road map. (Oh, I feel safe now!)
I think his nose was itching, because he started moving the flashlight back and forth across it. All the parked planes started moving forward and back. I heard the pilot yell, “MAKE UP YOUR MIND!”
Apparently, the ramper was listening to music, because he started dancing and waving his arms. One plane, cleared for takeoff, turned sideways and went across the grass. And all this happened after people had already boarded.
Then the flight attendants give the safety demo. They point out the exits and advise that in case of emergency, please calmly proceed to the exits and calmly deplane. The heck with that — if we all push and shove, we’ll get out much faster.
Then they tell us if the cabin loses pressure, oxygen masks will drop down — put it on and continue to breathe normally. Breathe normally? If those masks ever actually dropped, you wouldn’t be able to breathe at all because that cabin would be full of you-know-what. Why drop oxygen masks in an emergency anyway? They should drop horns — at least you could honk if you love Jesus and maybe have a fighting chance.
And what’s going on with all the planes lately? They’re skidding, catching fire, dropping parts, flipping over and colliding with each other. If you eat dinner on a plane, it might be your Last Supper. (Maybe that’s why they serve wine.)
Getting through security isn’t easy either. I always set off the buzzer. They ask, “Are you wearing an underwire bra?” I say, “Don’t get personal with me! I don’t ask about your underwear — assuming you’re wearing some.”
They ask again: “Are you wearing an underwire bra?” I say, “Yes, and I’m not afraid to use it!”
Then my carry-on sets off the buzzer. They pull out a jar of cookie butter and say I can’t bring it on board. I say, “Why not? It’s not a liquid.” The agent says, “Nothing spreadable is allowed.” I told him, “Well then you’ll have to get rid of all the women.”
I didn’t feel safe, so I put three rolls of toilet paper in my carry-on. One hour into the flight, a man starts giving the flight attendant a hard time — yelling, pulling things out of the overhead bin, choking the woman in front of him. Then he starts stomping his feet and holding his breath. All of this could’ve been avoided if they had just given him that second bag of peanuts.
Twenty minutes later, the plane took a nosedive! Suddenly, we all found religion. The entire cabin broke into a chorus of “Onward, Christian Soldiers.”
My first thought? If we crash into the water, the woman next to me is going to be used as a flotation device.
She starts screaming prayers. I say, “Shut up, Amazing Grace!”
She says, “How do you know my name?”
This is it — we’re going to die. I saw the light!
I told her, “The only light you saw was the reading lamp.”
Thank God we had a great pilot who pulled us out of the nosedive. I grabbed my carry-on, pulled out a roll of toilet paper and said, “I’ll start the bidding at $50.”
Jere Evans is a local comedian and comedy writer. She lives in Encinitas and is a proud member of the Daughters of the American Revolution. Follow her on YouTube at @jereevanscomedy.
