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kassidy62I am a wimp. I am a bad traveler. And so when the first of four flights turned out to be in a little Canadair jet and it was raining like crazy at 7 am and the plane rode rough, well, I wasn't happy. The connecting flight was a DC-9 and I was a happy happy girl. They gave me a WHOLE coke, not just a cup! And it was wide and roomy (we had exit seats).
On the way back, we were in an Airbus or something like that. Also big. Smoothest ride of the trip. Then came the dreaded jet again. 46 seater. We're all sitting there and then the co-pilot who was all of five years old with his cornsilk hair and big blue eyes gets on the intercom. "Well, we're here, I'm here, we're ready... but we have no pilot."
One of the passengers suggested he check the bars.
"So we'll get with scheduling and see where our pilot is." Over and out.
Cheryl and I sit and watch someone on the ground fiddle with our toy plane's wing. I ask Cheryl if he has a glue gun or duct tape.
More waiting.
Then a cute little pilot hottie, all of 25 (maybe) comes to (apparently) check out the jet next to us. He peers under the wing. Hm, looks okay. Inspects something on the side. "Cheryl," I say, "If he kicks the tires, I'm outta here."
The next thing he does... you guessed it. Two times.
Finally we end up with a re-routed pilot who *had* been intending to go to Florida. "But Knoxville's okay, I guess," he said.
"We all think it is," I say.
On the way back, we were in an Airbus or something like that. Also big. Smoothest ride of the trip. Then came the dreaded jet again. 46 seater. We're all sitting there and then the co-pilot who was all of five years old with his cornsilk hair and big blue eyes gets on the intercom. "Well, we're here, I'm here, we're ready... but we have no pilot."
One of the passengers suggested he check the bars.
"So we'll get with scheduling and see where our pilot is." Over and out.
Cheryl and I sit and watch someone on the ground fiddle with our toy plane's wing. I ask Cheryl if he has a glue gun or duct tape.
More waiting.
Then a cute little pilot hottie, all of 25 (maybe) comes to (apparently) check out the jet next to us. He peers under the wing. Hm, looks okay. Inspects something on the side. "Cheryl," I say, "If he kicks the tires, I'm outta here."
The next thing he does... you guessed it. Two times.
Finally we end up with a re-routed pilot who *had* been intending to go to Florida. "But Knoxville's okay, I guess," he said.
"We all think it is," I say.