Historical satire by Tom Hoerr, November 1983. The passenger interviews and explanations of flight are comic inventions, not aviation guidance or reports of actual conduct.
Dateline: Somewhere over the east coast, 41,000 feet in the air, flying on “People Express” Airlines. Flying has always been a mystery to me. I just don’t understand how big, heavy planes can be suspended in the air. Now, flying isn’t the only modern convenience that is beyond my comprehension; television simply blows my mind, “How’d they ever get all those little people in the box, anyway?” I thought I understood radio until I read a “Ripley’s Believe It or Not” article that talked about a bus driver in Cleveland who received radio programs through a filling in her teeth! C’mon now, give me a break!
The list of the imponderables goes on and on: Microwaves, nuclear energy, Vic’s-Vape-O-Rub, erasable pens, and why people buy yogurt are all beyond my comprehension. But, back to planes.
Here I am, writing this column sitting on a cushioned seat which is bolted to a metal floor which serves as the roof for a luggage compartment which is over tons of luggage (you should witness my wife’s packing!) which sits on a solid metal floor containing landing wheels, compasses, headlights, horns, and other semi-crucial stuff … all on top of nothing! That’s right, the whole shebang is held up by zip — we’re on air!
Now mind you, this is the same air that won’t suspend a biscuit which I’ve tossed to my twin fidos, Tokos and Cleo.
This is the same air through which divers plummet, pop flys fall, bombs drop, and -fog rolls (not to mention egg rolls!).
There must be a rational explanation. I’m too old to believe in magic (other than that which used to occur at Busch Stadium), so there has to be a way that this metal bird defies the law of gravity (maybe it has an exemption, like Sunday sales!). Being an old researcher, I’ve asked a few fellow passengers for their ideas: I. Y.E: Excuse me, miss, exactly how do you think planes fly? Erma Goodpaster (61): Oh, very well.
They usually are quite smooth and efficient. I.Y.E: No, I mean how are they suspended in the air? Erma: Well, if you ask me, I think that the wings are hollow. I. Y.E: Hollow? Erma: Oh yes, hollow and full of trained birds.
When the pilot gives the signal, the birds all begin flapping their wings and… I.Y.E: Thank you Erma.
And now on to another frequent flyer. Excuse me sir, how, no, what enables planes to fly? Jim Shorts (43): I think it’s the propellers.
They suck up all the air in front of the plane and then shoot it out the bottom in a popping flatulent-like fashion. That air hits the ground and pushes the plane up. I.Y.E’ But this plane is a jet and has no propellers. Jim: Oh, so it is. Beats me then! I.Y.E: You, sir, what are your thoughts about how planes can fly in the air? Pud Daley (29): I think it’s the stewardii. I.Y.E: Stewardii? Pud: Sure, the plural of stewardess. I used to date a couple of stews and, let me tell you, talk about empty-headed-vapid-brains! Why, once I took one to a roller-derby match, and…. I.Y.E: Thank you, Pud.
Oh, look, coming down the aisle here is a silver-haired, uniformed gent with wings on his shoulders! You sir, what enables planes to fly? Silver-haired gent: Hey man, it’s the grass, y’know the dope. Like wow! You get a bale of Columbian Gold, set a slow match to it, and feed it into the carburetor. Hey, baby, hit me again! Who wouldn’t be high and fly with that pop? I.Y.E: Uh, excuse me.
This is more than a little disquieting! You’re the captain of this plane and you’re talking like that? Silver-haired gent: What’s with this captain stuff? I’m a bird handler here from Ecuador to display my twin cockatoos. Hit me again, man! I.Y.E: Say goodnight, Gracie. Gracie: Goodnight!
Originally published in The Paper, November 1983.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1983_11.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
