Everybody wants to sue for anything...just got this E-Mail...
Those were the good ole days.
Pilots back then were men that didn't want to be women or girlymen.
Pilots all knew who Jimmy Doolittle was.
Pilots drank coffee, whiskey, smoked cigars and didn't wear
digital watches. They carried their own suitcases and brain bags like
the real men that they were.
Pilots didn't bend over into the crash position multiple times
each day in front of the passengers at Security so that some
Government agent could probe for tweezers or fingernail clippers or
too much toothpaste.
Pilots did not go through the terminal impersonating a caddy
pulling a bunch of golf clubs, computers, guitars, and feed bags full
of tofu and granola on a sissy-trailer with no hat and granny glasses
hanging on a pink string around their pencil neck while talking to
their personal trainer on the cell phone!!!
Being an Airline Captain was as good as being the King in a Mel
Brooks movie. All the Stewardesses (aka Flight Attendants) were young,
attractive, single women that were proud to be combatants in the
sexual revolution. They didn't have to turn sideways, grease up and
suck it in to get through the cockpit door. They would blush and say
thank you when told that they looked good, instead of filing a sexual
harassment claim.
Junior Stewardesses shared a room and talked about men with no
thoughts of substitution.
Passengers wore nice clothes and were polite; they could speak AND
understand English. They didn't speak gibberish or listen to loud
gangsta rap on their IPods. They bathed and didn't smell like a
rotting pile of garbage in a jogging suit and flip-flops.
Children didn't travel alone, commuting between trailer parks.
There were no Mongol hordes asking for a 'mu-fuggin' seatbelt
extension or a Scotch and grapefruit juice cocktail with a twist.
If the Captain wanted to throw some offensive, ranting jerk off
the airplane, it was done without any worries of a lawsuit or getting
fired.
Axial flow engines crackled with the sound of freedom and left an
impressive black smoke trail like a locomotive burning soft coal. Jet
fuel was cheap and once the throttles were pushed up they were left
there.
After all, it was the jet age and the idea was to go fast (run
like a lizard on a hardwood floor).
Economy cruise was something in the performance book, but no one
knew why or where it was.
When the clacker went off no one got all tight and scared because
Boeing built it out of iron, nothing was going to fall off and that
sound had the same effect on real pilots then as Viagra does now for
those new age guys.
There was very little plastic and no composites on the airplanes
or the Stewardesses' pectoral regions.
Airplanes and women had eye pleasing symmetrical curves, not a
bunch of ugly vortex generators, ventral fins, winglets, flow
diverters, tattoos, rings in their nose, tongues and eyebrows.
Airlines were run by men like C.R. Smith and Juan Trippe, who had
built their companies virtually from scratch, knew many of their
employees by name and who were lifetime airline employees themselves
not pseudo financiers and bean counters who flitted from one
occupation to another for a few bucks, a better parachute or a fancier
title while fervently believing that they are a class of beings unto
themselves.
And so it was back then....and never will be again.
JvW
