Air Retarded
This is the name of the airline I just got laid-off from, except in airline parlance they
use the word "furloughed". (I think laid-off sounds better...like maybe sex was involved
instead of some dough-making trick). Okay, it's not REALLY the name of the airline I
worked for, but they SHOULD be named Air Retarded.
I took the job with Air Retarded out of desperation (never a good thing, but dreams die
hard...and not in a Bruce Willis testosterone-laden die hard kinda way, either) because my previous airline went out of business. (That previous airline would be Skyway; look up the word "skywayed" on urbandictionary.com to get an idea of what that place was like...another blog soon to follow). It had lots of things going against it in my mind, but again, desperation
makes people do stupid things. My total time at Air Retarded from getting hired to being laid-off was 4 months.
So why is it that I can't stand Air Retarded and would rather chew razor blades than go
back there? Here's just a few examples (I have used MUCH brevity to avoid a novella):
*Their ground school sucked. The instructors basically just went through the motions and
if I hadn't been through three ground schools already, it would've been WAY harder than
it needed to be. As a previous airline ground school instructor I know what
I'm writing about here. But it went from 'just' sucking into 'hardcore fellatio' sucking when
the ground school "instructor" called me a "...fucking moron..." when I dared raise the
fact that the flaps have no overspeed protection in a descent. Needless to say, I didn't
say much after that. (I had flown the big brother jet to the runt jet Air Retarded flies so
I already knew the answer...I just thought it might be something all the other new pilots
might need to know).
*I got a sinus infection on a Tuesday and was out for 5 days with a doctor's note. I was
supposed to start work on Thursday. I called Air Retarded's crew scheduling on said Tue
morning to give them a heads-up that I would miss my first three days. (The IQ-challenged
scheduler informed me that I could just call on Thurs to call in sick...then changed her
mind and told me to Fax the note to her). Skip ahead to Thurs: I turn my phone on and
have four messages that they are marking me down as a NO SHOW as I missed my
assignment. WTF? So I call them back and a new moron tells me they never got a
Fax. I inform her that I have a transmission receipt and a recorded phone line that tells
me you DID get one. Then they tell me that I have to call my manager to call in sick and
then HE will call in sick for me. Oh I get it...you want me to add a middle-man, just to
make it even MORE retarded; oops....confusing. They still have me marked as a no show...
even though I had a medical excuse. Nice.
*I emailed payroll three weeks before my ass-reaming (aka, furlough / laid-off) to find
out what would happen with my uniform deduction, as $300 worth of uniforms hadn't
been paid for yet. I got no answer after a week so I called and left a polite message. No
answer to either of these. I got my answer the day my paycheck (normally $665) got
deposited and my statement showed a whopping $234 deposit. WTF? "Oh, we just found
out today what was happening with that." Yeah, right. It's okay; I'm sure the bills I owe
the first-half of the month won't mind if I just don't pay them. Fuckers. If they had simply told me ahead of time, I could've budgeted for it but the people running the show are, well, retarded. (FYI: First year pilot pay at Air Retarded is about $22,000 a year).
*I get a call from scheduling to fly to DCA (Washington Reagan airport in D.C.) and then
"deadhead" (ie, ride in back) back to Norfolk, VA at 6:30am the NEXT day. I show up for my 6:30am deadhead (scheduling is in charge of deadhead tickets) and get to Norfolk as scheduling told me to. I turn on my phone and have about six
messages (first message was at 3:30am) telling me to call scheduling ASAP as my showtime is now "way later". I call them and they ask where I am. "Norfolk" is my reply.
"No! You're supposed to still be in DCA! You need to get right back there now!" I'm like, "WTF? Why didn't you call my hotel room?" Their answer: "It would take too long."
(a total lie, btw...they have to bring up my schedule, which has my hotel number,
just to see where I'm at). I tell her: "It was 3:30am...how busy could you have been?"
She didn't like that answer and put me on hold. (Crew schedulers use "hold" like religious
zealots use the bible...it's the only thing they have to stand on sometimes).
*After all of this, I get a call my second to last day from some union guy. He starts talking
to me like we're old buddies from 'Nam when he drops the bomb: "Hey, I'm just giving
you this call as a courtesy. You know, you're still on probation and your attitude is getting
you into trouble." I'm like: "WTF? What is this in reference to?" His answer: "I don't
have any information on WHY I'm making this call, I'm just making it." Me: "Oh, are you
retarded? What can I fix if I don't know what's broken? By the way, I haven't done
anything wrong: You haven't had to cancel or delay a flight by any reason that I caused."
He had no response to that, so he just kept repeating: "I'm just making this call as a
courtesy." (Union guys must use that like schedulers use "hold").
There's more, MUCH more, but I'm sure you have better things to do than read why Air
Retarded is the shittiest airline of the three I've worked for. Additional stories would include:
- Sleeping in a sex dungeon (complete with rats and moldy piss carpet).
- A pompous British manager with a name right out of a Tolkien novel, INCLUDING
a hyphen!
- Management sending "warning emails" prior to every holiday to all of us "high-schooler"
pilots that if we call in sick for a holiday, we must call our managers instead of
scheduling directly. (And they wonder why airlines are going bankrupt).
- A bidding / scheduling system that rivals the Soviet Gulag for efficiency and confusion.
Ahhhh...airline flying would be great if it weren't for the retards running the show. (No
offense to mentally handicapped people; you're WAY smarter than airline management).
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Masturbortion...
Masturbortion
Current mood: quixotic
I haven't blogg'd on myspace in forever but some dumb-ass with a religion complex forced the issue. Just in case you're sensitive to subjects such as blood, idiocracy, the bible, your conscience, and vacuum cleaners...skip to a Britney Spears website.
For starters: Two months ago there were protesters that spent a week or so outside a planned parenthood clinic in Stevens Point, WI. It was the only planned protest of it's kind towards condoms and safe sex in the nation at the time (one can only be led to believe nobody else got the email invite...or gave a shit). Wanna guess what these long-haired, dress-wearing, bible-thumping dumbfucks were protesting? Hmmmmmmm: Abortion? No. The presence of alcohol (C2H6O...from O-chem) in their daily communion wine? No. Anti-knock fuel additives? No. These religious yahoos were protesting the fact that the condom-clinic was promoting masturbation and safe sex. Let me re-type that for you: They were AGAINST (their own words, on audio tape) masturbation and safe sex. WTF? According to them: "The loss of only one fetus to these practices goes against everything the bible stands for." Sorry for the delay, folks...I had to wipe the tears of laughter and the shit from my pants because I laughed so hard I had to shit after hearing such crap. If there were a remedy for smirks, I'd have to super-size that dosage because the smirk on my face was about "this big" (in reference to my schwank, of course) when I heard this on NPR. Wow...speaking of people that take things too seriously... As these close-minded 'adults' see it: Masturbation is against god's will. Whoever god is. I wouldn't worship a god that claimed it a sin to cum whenever I wanted to. But that's just me...
In light of the newfound retardation based upon a man-made book known as the bible I coined a new word: Masturbortion. So now, every man (women are, apparently, excluded) has yet another reason to feel "guilty" about cumming outside of a vaginal canal.
But to the real issue: Murder. Pro-lifers claim that abortion is murder. I can empathize with their point (something that 99.50% of pro-lifers can't do with MY viewpoint: Abortion should be legal and a personal choice) but I will give anyone the best oral sex of their lifetime if they can find ONE case where a pro-choice advocate offed someone like Pat Robertson, Oral Roberts or that numb-dick from Kansas who wants military veterans killed. Hmmmmmmm...you'll be google-ing that one for a few weeks, only to find your bible has left you horny, you're living in an out-dated mode of thinking and religion has caused more deaths than any (ANY) cause you can name. If you're religous, I'll fuck your CAT if you can show the numbers prove otherwise.
Isn't it great that we live in a society that has freedoms? It's hard to remind yourself, I know, but that freedom comes at the cost of religious zealots with guns. Maybe from now on any woman who wants to vacuum clean her pussy has to wear a bullet-proof vest and have an armed-escort (or two) walk her to the "Dyson Room".
Sacrilege!! How can I speak of an unborn "human" in such terms?!?!?! Easy. The same method that allows me to write of the fact religion is fucked, the meat industry is corrupt, republicans are retarded and the chicken egg I buy in the supermarket is more advanced genetically than a fertilized fetus (google it) allows me to draw a scientific conclusion.
In either respect, murdering someone for the sake of promoting your "cause" is wrong. Murdering someone for the sake or your religion is a 1st-class ticket to hell. (Burn mutha fucka....burn). In addition: A special "fuck you" to pro-lifers that champion this mislead individual that picked up a bible and believed it. (As well, fuck the anti-gay marriage advocates on Prop 8 in CA).
I wrote this on the fly...apologize ahead of time for any grammaticals (*Lisa).
Religion Body Count Atheist Body Count
13,450,000,000 3
Remember: Beliefs allow a fully-functioning mind to stop working. . .
Current mood: quixotic
I haven't blogg'd on myspace in forever but some dumb-ass with a religion complex forced the issue. Just in case you're sensitive to subjects such as blood, idiocracy, the bible, your conscience, and vacuum cleaners...skip to a Britney Spears website.
For starters: Two months ago there were protesters that spent a week or so outside a planned parenthood clinic in Stevens Point, WI. It was the only planned protest of it's kind towards condoms and safe sex in the nation at the time (one can only be led to believe nobody else got the email invite...or gave a shit). Wanna guess what these long-haired, dress-wearing, bible-thumping dumbfucks were protesting? Hmmmmmmm: Abortion? No. The presence of alcohol (C2H6O...from O-chem) in their daily communion wine? No. Anti-knock fuel additives? No. These religious yahoos were protesting the fact that the condom-clinic was promoting masturbation and safe sex. Let me re-type that for you: They were AGAINST (their own words, on audio tape) masturbation and safe sex. WTF? According to them: "The loss of only one fetus to these practices goes against everything the bible stands for." Sorry for the delay, folks...I had to wipe the tears of laughter and the shit from my pants because I laughed so hard I had to shit after hearing such crap. If there were a remedy for smirks, I'd have to super-size that dosage because the smirk on my face was about "this big" (in reference to my schwank, of course) when I heard this on NPR. Wow...speaking of people that take things too seriously... As these close-minded 'adults' see it: Masturbation is against god's will. Whoever god is. I wouldn't worship a god that claimed it a sin to cum whenever I wanted to. But that's just me...
In light of the newfound retardation based upon a man-made book known as the bible I coined a new word: Masturbortion. So now, every man (women are, apparently, excluded) has yet another reason to feel "guilty" about cumming outside of a vaginal canal.
But to the real issue: Murder. Pro-lifers claim that abortion is murder. I can empathize with their point (something that 99.50% of pro-lifers can't do with MY viewpoint: Abortion should be legal and a personal choice) but I will give anyone the best oral sex of their lifetime if they can find ONE case where a pro-choice advocate offed someone like Pat Robertson, Oral Roberts or that numb-dick from Kansas who wants military veterans killed. Hmmmmmmm...you'll be google-ing that one for a few weeks, only to find your bible has left you horny, you're living in an out-dated mode of thinking and religion has caused more deaths than any (ANY) cause you can name. If you're religous, I'll fuck your CAT if you can show the numbers prove otherwise.
Isn't it great that we live in a society that has freedoms? It's hard to remind yourself, I know, but that freedom comes at the cost of religious zealots with guns. Maybe from now on any woman who wants to vacuum clean her pussy has to wear a bullet-proof vest and have an armed-escort (or two) walk her to the "Dyson Room".
Sacrilege!! How can I speak of an unborn "human" in such terms?!?!?! Easy. The same method that allows me to write of the fact religion is fucked, the meat industry is corrupt, republicans are retarded and the chicken egg I buy in the supermarket is more advanced genetically than a fertilized fetus (google it) allows me to draw a scientific conclusion.
In either respect, murdering someone for the sake of promoting your "cause" is wrong. Murdering someone for the sake or your religion is a 1st-class ticket to hell. (Burn mutha fucka....burn). In addition: A special "fuck you" to pro-lifers that champion this mislead individual that picked up a bible and believed it. (As well, fuck the anti-gay marriage advocates on Prop 8 in CA).
I wrote this on the fly...apologize ahead of time for any grammaticals (*Lisa).
Religion Body Count Atheist Body Count
13,450,000,000 3
Remember: Beliefs allow a fully-functioning mind to stop working. . .
Iceman
"Iceman"
The pic I have up on my profile got a lot of comments when I first put him up there. My dogs' name was "ICE" and he was my main man. I have since explained to a few people why his pic won't come off...for a long time. But blogging is an addiction with me and I think my main man earned his place here on myspace...here is his story....
I worked part-time at a pet food store during college. Aside from the great discount that afforded us to have 2 dogs, 5 rats, 3 rabbits and 1 cat as pets...it was a store where patrons and employees alike could bring their animals into the store (leash required :) Now, I'm a softy when it comes to animals...and I will go WAY out of my way to help them in any way I can. I first saw Ice on the store's notice board where people could sell/swap/pets and pet equipment. I love northern breed dogs (Siberian Huskies, Alaskan Malamutes, Norwegian Elkhounds, etc...pretty much anything with a curly tail) and Ice stood out. Pure white and BIG...98lbs. It was a black and white photo but I had to take it home and beg permission to go check him out. Two big dogs in a small house is hard enough...adding a third REALLY big dog was going to take some smoothe talking...and I ain't a smoothe talker. We agreed to go check him out. Turns out he came from a dog sled farm (a vacation place where you dogsled from one cabin to another with a guide) and couldn't cut it anymore for some reason. The man who took him in kept him seperate from the rest of his 14 dog team because he "...just couldn't fit in with his dogs." Ice was 9 years old and our first glimpse broke our hearts: White fur stained dark grey, top 1" of his ears scabbed over, collar dirty and moldy enough that the original color was impossible to tell, teeth dark and stained, matts and scabs over much of his body, nose bone dry and scabbed, eyes showing no life and he was depressed. (Anybody who thinks that animals don't know depression are FUCKED IN THE HEAD).
We asked for a minute alone to discuss what we wanted to do and as soon as we were alone it was decided that he was coming with us. There was NO fucking way he was staying where he was: Collared to a 5' chain outside in the 15 degree cold in a doghouse with no bedding and a water dish that was iced over. We put him in the Saturn, and proceeded to my workplace where a grooming table, 2 baths, a new collar, LOTS of attention and treats were in store. He immediately got people's attention. And lots of it. He had never been exposed to this kind of atmosphere so he didn't know what to make of it. He was shy as hell and fearful of every hand that reached to pet him...though he NEVER once showed teeth or showed any aggressive tendencies. He was broken. After the baths, new collar and a blow dry he looked so much better that it was hard to tell he was the same dog that had came into the store. He was always fearful and skittish...he had never known what kindness was I think. We didn't get much information on his past except that he was driving sleds at 6 months old (way too early) and was never taken care of...treated like cattle. It was a place in Idaho...and they can fuck themselves.
Ice's journey didn't get much better at home. He had trouble adjusting to life in a house environment and with our two other dogs. He mostly kept to himself in a corner and his head was always hung low...way low. He didn't wag his tail for the longest time. Where most dogs are ecstatic to see their new owners, Ice never showed such a thing for a long time. We were told his ear tips would most likely never see hair again and that it wasn't worth investing money on a dog as old and as broken as he was. (This coming from a fucking so-called veterinarian...aren't they supposed to treat and help animals)? So of course, we bought ear salve, paid to have his scabs treated and absolutely SPOILED this new member of our family. He was given the best dog bed, the best spot to watch the Packers kick whoevers ass it was they were playing and always treated like the main man. After a few months, his ears were covered with thick white fur, his body looked like that of an athelete and his fur was vivid white. His eyes, which were almost white they were so blue, finally started showing signs of life and vivaciousness. He started prancing up and down when he saw any of us and I swear a smile could be seen on his muzzle. One peculiar thing about Ice was that anytime you reached to him from out of his eyesight he was startled and frightened when he saw your hand. We came to find out he was deaf. No wonder he couldn't hear the "gee" and "haw" commands of the sled team leader. We learned to overcome that "disability" and he started getting along well with our other dogs. The cat wasn't so sure, but then again cats never really are, are they?
There were a few times where he got loose and ran around the small town we lived in. With no less than five of us chasing after a deaf dog down a rural road. Although we knew he was deaf, it was impossible not to call "ICE!" as loudly as we could in hopes of him turning to us. And the funniest thing was...he wasn't RUNNING. He was just jogging slowly (but fast enough to keep us at bay...) and checking out his new digs. We found out the only way to get him was to drive in front of him and open the car door. He would jump in the car EVERY time! If dogs only came with instructions in the first place...
He proceeded over time to improve in all aspects of his life. His favorite thing was having his butt scratched...just above his tail. His way of meeting a new person was to run up to them, prance on his front legs a little bit and then turn his butt in your direction. All he wanted from anyone was a 'buttscratch'. He learned that he had a voice...deaf and all...and would howl the most sorrowful howl you ever heard if he was left outside too long or if his water dish was low. One time we left him alone for a little longer than we should have. His answer was to grab a backpack off the wall (4' hook), place it in the middle of the living room floor and then shit on it! He was way too smart for his own good...
We had him for two years. He was the life of any party we had and the only dog trusted to not jump on people, eat off the table or ever get hyper. He made friends and a huge impression on everyone that ever met him. We always felt proud to say the we gave him the best retirement home he could have ever hoped for.
The day he died the Packers were playing a playoff game which they won. I had just fed the dogs when he came back upstairs and something just looked wrong. He was drooling and looked like he did the day we picked him up. Broken. I went to help him lie down and he gave a howl. I started to freak out...my mouth went dry and in my boxer shorts and wife beater I called the vet on call. This fuck seemed more interested in the TV than the drama and pain unfolding in my household. I practically had to BEG him to meet me at the vet office. Once there, it took him 20 minutes!!!! (It takes 5 to go from edge to edge of this town) to get there. I showed up in boxers, a wife beater and flip flops. I didn't want to waste any time changing...fuck protocol. He (I won't refer to him as a "vet" anymore) comes out and tells me that Ice has what's known as a "gastric torsion". His stomach has flipped over and both ends are blocked off. It's painful for the dog and the best remedy is to put him to 'sleep'. That term has always pissed me off. And if putting a pet to sleep is an "easy" thing for you to do...you're a fuck. I ask what the other options are. Begging, pleading for any other answer! He tells me that he can operate but it's only 50% successful...and he'll need 50% of the cost deposited now of the $1100 total operation cost. Remember: I'm in my boxer shorts and flip flops. I have nothing on me. I make a call and get the okay to spend the money we don't have. (And what REALLY torques me about this is that if it were a 77 year old HUMAN on the table...money would have NEVER, EVER been brought up). Long story, short...he died on the operating table. I came the next day to pick up his things and pay for an individual cremation. I fucking lost it and had to walk home. He had come so far...to die like this? INT WTF?!!?! My flying student and friend who was a veterinarian in another county told me that this condition was a complete mystery. No cure or prevention known. A fluke...an un-lucky occurrence. It helped but I will always wonder if I had stayed with him if I could've done something different while he was eating that night. His story was an amazing one...and it proves that if you have pets spoil them while you can. They don't live long enough, even under normal circumstances, to not show them the love they give us.
There is so much more to this story but it was hard enough to write this. And this blog y'all can take seriously. Ice was my main man...I miss him. And please don't ask me to remove his picture...at least for awhile, kay? He's way better looking than I am anyway...
The pic I have up on my profile got a lot of comments when I first put him up there. My dogs' name was "ICE" and he was my main man. I have since explained to a few people why his pic won't come off...for a long time. But blogging is an addiction with me and I think my main man earned his place here on myspace...here is his story....
I worked part-time at a pet food store during college. Aside from the great discount that afforded us to have 2 dogs, 5 rats, 3 rabbits and 1 cat as pets...it was a store where patrons and employees alike could bring their animals into the store (leash required :) Now, I'm a softy when it comes to animals...and I will go WAY out of my way to help them in any way I can. I first saw Ice on the store's notice board where people could sell/swap/pets and pet equipment. I love northern breed dogs (Siberian Huskies, Alaskan Malamutes, Norwegian Elkhounds, etc...pretty much anything with a curly tail) and Ice stood out. Pure white and BIG...98lbs. It was a black and white photo but I had to take it home and beg permission to go check him out. Two big dogs in a small house is hard enough...adding a third REALLY big dog was going to take some smoothe talking...and I ain't a smoothe talker. We agreed to go check him out. Turns out he came from a dog sled farm (a vacation place where you dogsled from one cabin to another with a guide) and couldn't cut it anymore for some reason. The man who took him in kept him seperate from the rest of his 14 dog team because he "...just couldn't fit in with his dogs." Ice was 9 years old and our first glimpse broke our hearts: White fur stained dark grey, top 1" of his ears scabbed over, collar dirty and moldy enough that the original color was impossible to tell, teeth dark and stained, matts and scabs over much of his body, nose bone dry and scabbed, eyes showing no life and he was depressed. (Anybody who thinks that animals don't know depression are FUCKED IN THE HEAD).
We asked for a minute alone to discuss what we wanted to do and as soon as we were alone it was decided that he was coming with us. There was NO fucking way he was staying where he was: Collared to a 5' chain outside in the 15 degree cold in a doghouse with no bedding and a water dish that was iced over. We put him in the Saturn, and proceeded to my workplace where a grooming table, 2 baths, a new collar, LOTS of attention and treats were in store. He immediately got people's attention. And lots of it. He had never been exposed to this kind of atmosphere so he didn't know what to make of it. He was shy as hell and fearful of every hand that reached to pet him...though he NEVER once showed teeth or showed any aggressive tendencies. He was broken. After the baths, new collar and a blow dry he looked so much better that it was hard to tell he was the same dog that had came into the store. He was always fearful and skittish...he had never known what kindness was I think. We didn't get much information on his past except that he was driving sleds at 6 months old (way too early) and was never taken care of...treated like cattle. It was a place in Idaho...and they can fuck themselves.
Ice's journey didn't get much better at home. He had trouble adjusting to life in a house environment and with our two other dogs. He mostly kept to himself in a corner and his head was always hung low...way low. He didn't wag his tail for the longest time. Where most dogs are ecstatic to see their new owners, Ice never showed such a thing for a long time. We were told his ear tips would most likely never see hair again and that it wasn't worth investing money on a dog as old and as broken as he was. (This coming from a fucking so-called veterinarian...aren't they supposed to treat and help animals)? So of course, we bought ear salve, paid to have his scabs treated and absolutely SPOILED this new member of our family. He was given the best dog bed, the best spot to watch the Packers kick whoevers ass it was they were playing and always treated like the main man. After a few months, his ears were covered with thick white fur, his body looked like that of an athelete and his fur was vivid white. His eyes, which were almost white they were so blue, finally started showing signs of life and vivaciousness. He started prancing up and down when he saw any of us and I swear a smile could be seen on his muzzle. One peculiar thing about Ice was that anytime you reached to him from out of his eyesight he was startled and frightened when he saw your hand. We came to find out he was deaf. No wonder he couldn't hear the "gee" and "haw" commands of the sled team leader. We learned to overcome that "disability" and he started getting along well with our other dogs. The cat wasn't so sure, but then again cats never really are, are they?
There were a few times where he got loose and ran around the small town we lived in. With no less than five of us chasing after a deaf dog down a rural road. Although we knew he was deaf, it was impossible not to call "ICE!" as loudly as we could in hopes of him turning to us. And the funniest thing was...he wasn't RUNNING. He was just jogging slowly (but fast enough to keep us at bay...) and checking out his new digs. We found out the only way to get him was to drive in front of him and open the car door. He would jump in the car EVERY time! If dogs only came with instructions in the first place...
He proceeded over time to improve in all aspects of his life. His favorite thing was having his butt scratched...just above his tail. His way of meeting a new person was to run up to them, prance on his front legs a little bit and then turn his butt in your direction. All he wanted from anyone was a 'buttscratch'. He learned that he had a voice...deaf and all...and would howl the most sorrowful howl you ever heard if he was left outside too long or if his water dish was low. One time we left him alone for a little longer than we should have. His answer was to grab a backpack off the wall (4' hook), place it in the middle of the living room floor and then shit on it! He was way too smart for his own good...
We had him for two years. He was the life of any party we had and the only dog trusted to not jump on people, eat off the table or ever get hyper. He made friends and a huge impression on everyone that ever met him. We always felt proud to say the we gave him the best retirement home he could have ever hoped for.
The day he died the Packers were playing a playoff game which they won. I had just fed the dogs when he came back upstairs and something just looked wrong. He was drooling and looked like he did the day we picked him up. Broken. I went to help him lie down and he gave a howl. I started to freak out...my mouth went dry and in my boxer shorts and wife beater I called the vet on call. This fuck seemed more interested in the TV than the drama and pain unfolding in my household. I practically had to BEG him to meet me at the vet office. Once there, it took him 20 minutes!!!! (It takes 5 to go from edge to edge of this town) to get there. I showed up in boxers, a wife beater and flip flops. I didn't want to waste any time changing...fuck protocol. He (I won't refer to him as a "vet" anymore) comes out and tells me that Ice has what's known as a "gastric torsion". His stomach has flipped over and both ends are blocked off. It's painful for the dog and the best remedy is to put him to 'sleep'. That term has always pissed me off. And if putting a pet to sleep is an "easy" thing for you to do...you're a fuck. I ask what the other options are. Begging, pleading for any other answer! He tells me that he can operate but it's only 50% successful...and he'll need 50% of the cost deposited now of the $1100 total operation cost. Remember: I'm in my boxer shorts and flip flops. I have nothing on me. I make a call and get the okay to spend the money we don't have. (And what REALLY torques me about this is that if it were a 77 year old HUMAN on the table...money would have NEVER, EVER been brought up). Long story, short...he died on the operating table. I came the next day to pick up his things and pay for an individual cremation. I fucking lost it and had to walk home. He had come so far...to die like this? INT WTF?!!?! My flying student and friend who was a veterinarian in another county told me that this condition was a complete mystery. No cure or prevention known. A fluke...an un-lucky occurrence. It helped but I will always wonder if I had stayed with him if I could've done something different while he was eating that night. His story was an amazing one...and it proves that if you have pets spoil them while you can. They don't live long enough, even under normal circumstances, to not show them the love they give us.
There is so much more to this story but it was hard enough to write this. And this blog y'all can take seriously. Ice was my main man...I miss him. And please don't ask me to remove his picture...at least for awhile, kay? He's way better looking than I am anyway...
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The "mosque" debate that should never have been...
“When fascism comes to America it will be wrapped in an American flag and carrying the cross.” - Sinclair Lewis, 1935, “It Can’t Happen Here”.1
Let me set the tone right away: If you find it offensive in some way that a Muslim cultural center being built a little more than two blocks away from Ground Zero is too close for your personal liking (and that Muslims should be more “sensitive” to your feelings), BUT … you’re okay with glen beck (sic, a known college drop-out, race-baiter, former morning zoo shock-jock and drug addict, among other self-righteous things) holding a “restoring honor” rally for old angry white people on the same day and the SAME SPOT of Martin Luther King, Jr’s “I have a dream…” speech, you are a hypocrite of epic proportions.
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” – 1st Amendment
This isn’t an anti-religious blog, it’s an anti-stupidity blog. To my fellow Americans that oppose the Muslim Cultural Center (MCC) I have some questions for you:
1) Other than your sensitive feelings, why?
2) Do you know what makes a mosque a mosque?
3) Do you believe we are a Christian nation? Why?
4) Would you be okay with a Christian chapel being built at the OKC bombing site?
5) Are you one of the 20+% of Americans that thinks President Obama is a Muslim? If so, when was the last time you were in church?
I am neither a Constitutional scholar nor a Theologian…but unlike a lot of people these days (sigh), I think for myself and don’t take as gospel what some talking head tells me is their version of the truth. Pun intended. Allow me to answer my own questions as someone who wholly supports the building of the MCC in lower Manhattan at the original proposed site.
Let me set the tone right away: If you find it offensive in some way that a Muslim cultural center being built a little more than two blocks away from Ground Zero is too close for your personal liking (and that Muslims should be more “sensitive” to your feelings), BUT … you’re okay with glen beck (sic, a known college drop-out, race-baiter, former morning zoo shock-jock and drug addict, among other self-righteous things) holding a “restoring honor” rally for old angry white people on the same day and the SAME SPOT of Martin Luther King, Jr’s “I have a dream…” speech, you are a hypocrite of epic proportions.
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” – 1st Amendment
This isn’t an anti-religious blog, it’s an anti-stupidity blog. To my fellow Americans that oppose the Muslim Cultural Center (MCC) I have some questions for you:
1) Other than your sensitive feelings, why?
2) Do you know what makes a mosque a mosque?
3) Do you believe we are a Christian nation? Why?
4) Would you be okay with a Christian chapel being built at the OKC bombing site?
5) Are you one of the 20+% of Americans that thinks President Obama is a Muslim? If so, when was the last time you were in church?
I am neither a Constitutional scholar nor a Theologian…but unlike a lot of people these days (sigh), I think for myself and don’t take as gospel what some talking head tells me is their version of the truth. Pun intended. Allow me to answer my own questions as someone who wholly supports the building of the MCC in lower Manhattan at the original proposed site.
1: Other than your own irrational fear (e.g., it will be a terrorist training center, Muslims hate infidels, the Muslim religion isn’t the “true” religion, the MCC will be a victory mosque, et al) why oppose the renovation of severely de-valued real-estate, a former Burlington coat factory2, into a bridge of cultural understanding? Here’s a thought experiment that most will roll their eyes at when they read it: What if radical Christians pulled-off 9/11 instead of Muslims? Before those eyes start turning like pinwheels I direct you to a little-known novel written in 1978 titled “The Turner Diaries”3. Never heard of it? Don’t worry, we’ll re-visit that book before we’re done. (A suicide attack on the pentagon with a plane that’s packed full of explosives takes place in the book…by radical Christians)3. Okay, you’ve had some time to think about it…what if radical Christians caused 9/11? Would you oppose the construction of any new churches? No. You wouldn’t. WHY IS THAT, Mr./Mrs./Ms. Christian? I’m going to throw out a wild guess and posit it’s because it is the same religion YOU follow. Still can’t make the connection? Still don’t think radical Christians would do such a thing? You have my pity, as you clearly can’t think outside your own beliefs and that, at least to me, is a sure sign of brain atrophy. (On a personal note: It pisses me off to see people burning the flag, or white “supremacists” marching in public, but I wholly support their right to do so. If we didn’t allow such things, fascism is always waiting right around the corner…).
2: The word "mosque" (in English) refers to all types of buildings dedicated for Islamic worship although there is a distinction in Arabic between the smaller, masjids dedicated for daily five prayers and the larger masajid where the daily five prayers and the Friday congregation sermons are held, which is attended by more people and play more roles such as teaching Qur'an4. The proposed MCC is not a mosque! It’s a cultural center that contains a small mosque (masjid). Don’t see the difference? Read (and keep re-reading) that sentence again until you do. Still don’t see the difference? Did you know that almost every major American airport has a chapel somewhere inside? Does that make an airport terminal a church? Oh, Snap!
3: If you believe this, the onus is on YOU to prove it to me. I’ll rely on the following facts that we are NOT a Christian nation. The word “god” does not appear in the Constitution; anywhere in the Constitution. I refer you to the 1st Amendment to the Constitution above. I further refer you to the notes that were taken while the founding fathers were drafting the Constitution5…those notes say it all. Further yet, check out the Jefferson Bible6 (Thomas Jefferson cut out all the “miracles” of the New Testament and guess what was left…). There is compelling evidence that several of the primary founding fathers were Atheists7. I find it fascinating and utterly frustrating that some religious people view their religion as the only “true” religion. For proof, you need only consider the body count through all of human history in the name of somebody’s “true” god. (And for no other reason that the geographical location of your birth)!!
4: Remember the book that I promised we would re-visit? “The Turner Diaries” was the inspiration for the white radical Christian Timothy McVeigh’s terrorist act of blowing up the Oklahoma City Alfred P. Murrah building8. So I ask you: Would it be allowable to build a Christian chapel on the site of the OKC bombing? Wait, ahem, two blocks away from the site? Of course it would! Hypocrite.
5: Really?! I mean, REALLY?!? All that nonsense about Rev. Jeremiah Wright (Christian) was bullshit after all? Those photos of the Obamas baptizing their daughters are PhotoShopped, right? Why stop there? Their Christian wedding pictures must be fake, too! I know…his father was a Muslim and in the Muslim religion, whatever the father is the child becomes. Automatically. Just like that, huh? I couldn’t find anything that proves that9; and obviously the fact that you’re a Christian has absolutely nothing to do with the fact your parents were Christians, right?
Oh, you poor vexed souls and sheeple. I know…thinking is hard work. It can be a truly epic journey to reach your own conclusions by actually using your brain to think about a difficult subject such as this (and I haven’t even brought up Tensor Calculus or Relativity Theory yet). And even in the day and age of the internet! A fucking world of information is, literally, right at my fingertips. “But there’s so much B.S. on the internet, how will I know what to believe?” No excuse. But, then again, you’d have to actually think about which information might be B.S. and which might be factual. If the facts don’t match your beliefs, you have the wrong beliefs. (Personally, beliefs are bullshit. Beliefs short-circuit the brain to purposely bypass thinking…because thinking is hard work, remember)?
Not only is the “debate” about this issue bullshit, it should never have been in the first place. The whole “issue” began because of a blog post by some evangelical moron and fox propaganda channel ran with it (surprise, surprise).
[Disclaimer: Wikipedia isn’t always the most reliable source. I encourage you to seek the truth on your own, don’t believe ANYTHING I have written here, and get the facts for yourself to your own satisfaction..and then THINK about them].
1 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It_Can%27t_Happen_Here
2 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Park_51
3 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turner_Diaries
4 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mosque
5 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Constitutional_Convention_(United_States)
6 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jefferson_bible
7 – “The God Delusion”, Richard Dawkins, (p64 for starters…)
8 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oklahoma_City_bombing
9 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Islam_and_children
2 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Park_51
3 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turner_Diaries
4 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mosque
5 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Constitutional_Convention_(United_States)
6 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jefferson_bible
7 – “The God Delusion”, Richard Dawkins, (p64 for starters…)
8 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oklahoma_City_bombing
9 - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Islam_and_children
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Jumping...
Jumping…
Today I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. Twice. And I’m gonna do it again, and again, and again… The funny thing is, I showed up that day to fly the planes, not jump out of them.
I’ve flown jump planes now for almost a year. It’s the most challenging flying I’ve done so far and it’s a flippin’ BLAST! Little Cessna 182’s that hold one pilot; all the rest of the seats have been removed and replaced with floor seatbelts (Google it if you don’t know what kind of plane I’m referring to). The right-side of the plane has been modified to allow a top-to-bottom clear plexi-glass (or maybe Lexan) door that swings upward and locks into place. The pilot wears a chute too…just in case ;) The first few times I flew jumpers and that door opened up…I could feel my pulse quickening and started sweating. All of a sudden this cacophony of wind noise and cold air (at 11,000 feet) enters the cabin and people (four of them, to be exact) are holding onto the strut of this tiny little airplane and the instruments are (mostly) un-readable…good times! 4000 flight hours, almost eight years of flying for the airlines, flying in some of the shittiest weather you wouldn’t think twice about DRIVING through, and flying jumpers is what it takes to get my heart pounding!
Anyway, so why did I jump? Because it’s scary. That’s the point! It’s like getting a tattoo…pain is part of the experience. (I have eight of them, btw…and still counting). You have your choice when you make up your mind to defy gravity: Tandem or IAD/Static-Line. Tandem means you get a free-fall for around 20ish seconds, but you don’t do anything; you’re strapped to a qualified jumper and he/she does all the work (you just have to shit your pants for 20ish seconds ;). I chose the IAD (Instructor Assisted Deployment) jump because it forces you to “man-up” (I apologize for the sexist remark, but you get the idea), crawl out of the plane yourself, hang from the plane and…let go. Talk about a RUSH!
My first IAD jump was last November…all I remember is shitting my pants, feeling like I was tumbling through the air asses over elbows…and the chute opening. Then, I remember breathing faster than I thought was humanly possible (at the time), seeing a good/clean canopy (Shape and Control) and thinking to myself: “Okay. I’m alive so far!” The risks are (mostly) perceived, but very real…and shit can (and sometimes does) happen. I’ve been rock climbing, SCUBA diving, the aforementioned flying escapades, gone to battle stations (for REAL) when two Yugoslavian fighter jets lit up my ship with a radar missile lock, etc….but, I’m here to tell ya’: That first jump was…the coolest thing I’ve ever done with my life thus far.
So, today I show up to fly…someone asked if I wanted to jump (thanks, Don!) and I said “Hell, yes!” As the plane takes off from the grass runway, I’m all pilot: Looking at the engine gauges, waiting for the engine to quit, what am I gonna do if the engine dies below a safe altitude…the normal stuff. Once we’re over a thousand feet above the ground, it hits me…and my gum-chewing starts getting faster. Palms never started to sweat, but all I can think of is the WIND. It’s flippin’ WINDY when you crawl out of a plane! 90mph = hurricane force, people. So, in reality, I’m gonna intentionally crawl out of a tiny plane into hurricane force winds…shimmy along the strut and put my life into the hands of the unknown person that packed the chute strapped to my back. The first body part out of the plane is your left foot…and holy crap is that wind STRONG! But once you get your hands on the strut (and have a pretty good death-grip going, btw) it’s okay…except it’s hard to breath into a head-on 90mph wind!
And I’m here to write to y’all: This is soooo cool! The chute opens and you just get a feeling like a building could fall on you and…you’d be like the Incredible Hulk and walk out from the rubble with your arms raised above your head saying “fuck, yeah!”. I got on the ground and got talked into (kidding) going again. I had about enough time to catch my breath, take a piss and go back up. I didn’t complete one of the tasks I was supposed to do but it was still a jump…and it was AWESOME! I’ve found a new addiction, and couldn’t be happier about it!
Today I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. Twice. And I’m gonna do it again, and again, and again… The funny thing is, I showed up that day to fly the planes, not jump out of them.
I’ve flown jump planes now for almost a year. It’s the most challenging flying I’ve done so far and it’s a flippin’ BLAST! Little Cessna 182’s that hold one pilot; all the rest of the seats have been removed and replaced with floor seatbelts (Google it if you don’t know what kind of plane I’m referring to). The right-side of the plane has been modified to allow a top-to-bottom clear plexi-glass (or maybe Lexan) door that swings upward and locks into place. The pilot wears a chute too…just in case ;) The first few times I flew jumpers and that door opened up…I could feel my pulse quickening and started sweating. All of a sudden this cacophony of wind noise and cold air (at 11,000 feet) enters the cabin and people (four of them, to be exact) are holding onto the strut of this tiny little airplane and the instruments are (mostly) un-readable…good times! 4000 flight hours, almost eight years of flying for the airlines, flying in some of the shittiest weather you wouldn’t think twice about DRIVING through, and flying jumpers is what it takes to get my heart pounding!
Anyway, so why did I jump? Because it’s scary. That’s the point! It’s like getting a tattoo…pain is part of the experience. (I have eight of them, btw…and still counting). You have your choice when you make up your mind to defy gravity: Tandem or IAD/Static-Line. Tandem means you get a free-fall for around 20ish seconds, but you don’t do anything; you’re strapped to a qualified jumper and he/she does all the work (you just have to shit your pants for 20ish seconds ;). I chose the IAD (Instructor Assisted Deployment) jump because it forces you to “man-up” (I apologize for the sexist remark, but you get the idea), crawl out of the plane yourself, hang from the plane and…let go. Talk about a RUSH!
My first IAD jump was last November…all I remember is shitting my pants, feeling like I was tumbling through the air asses over elbows…and the chute opening. Then, I remember breathing faster than I thought was humanly possible (at the time), seeing a good/clean canopy (Shape and Control) and thinking to myself: “Okay. I’m alive so far!” The risks are (mostly) perceived, but very real…and shit can (and sometimes does) happen. I’ve been rock climbing, SCUBA diving, the aforementioned flying escapades, gone to battle stations (for REAL) when two Yugoslavian fighter jets lit up my ship with a radar missile lock, etc….but, I’m here to tell ya’: That first jump was…the coolest thing I’ve ever done with my life thus far.
So, today I show up to fly…someone asked if I wanted to jump (thanks, Don!) and I said “Hell, yes!” As the plane takes off from the grass runway, I’m all pilot: Looking at the engine gauges, waiting for the engine to quit, what am I gonna do if the engine dies below a safe altitude…the normal stuff. Once we’re over a thousand feet above the ground, it hits me…and my gum-chewing starts getting faster. Palms never started to sweat, but all I can think of is the WIND. It’s flippin’ WINDY when you crawl out of a plane! 90mph = hurricane force, people. So, in reality, I’m gonna intentionally crawl out of a tiny plane into hurricane force winds…shimmy along the strut and put my life into the hands of the unknown person that packed the chute strapped to my back. The first body part out of the plane is your left foot…and holy crap is that wind STRONG! But once you get your hands on the strut (and have a pretty good death-grip going, btw) it’s okay…except it’s hard to breath into a head-on 90mph wind!
And I’m here to write to y’all: This is soooo cool! The chute opens and you just get a feeling like a building could fall on you and…you’d be like the Incredible Hulk and walk out from the rubble with your arms raised above your head saying “fuck, yeah!”. I got on the ground and got talked into (kidding) going again. I had about enough time to catch my breath, take a piss and go back up. I didn’t complete one of the tasks I was supposed to do but it was still a jump…and it was AWESOME! I’ve found a new addiction, and couldn’t be happier about it!
Monday, May 3, 2010
Why I Left the Airlines…
If you could have ANY job in the world…ANY JOB…what would it be? I'm giving you an open slate…education and money are not an issue. You can be ANYTHING you want to be…a pornstar, tennis pro, astronaut, bass fisherman…ANYTHING. How many of you can answer that question today, as an adult? My guess is about one out of five…and that comes from over ten years of asking that question to a lot of people, both men and women (It's a GREAT conversation starter, btw)…maybe I was lucky, but I always knew what I wanted to do…
The oldest artwork my parents have of mine is a fingerpainting that I did of a tree, with a plane parked next to it. I was two. I know this, because my mother wrote a date in the margin of the picture. My love of flying came from my father. He was an electronics guru, too…so I guess I owe my love of electronics to my father as well. My father used to be one of those people that parked his car at the approach end of a runway to watch the planes land and take off…he would take me with him sometimes. The noise, the drama, the emotions I felt were…well…nothing short of fucking amazing. I was mesmerized as a kid…to be able to fly…to bring something so HUGE, that flew in the air and be able to land it safely was, in my young mind…well, nothing short of a miracle. My mind was innocent. I had no illusions of giant paychecks or sex with stewardesses…I just wanted to be able to do THAT! Fly a plane. If you need further proof…I took an employment test in the fifth grade…and another in the eighth grade; the only answer this test told the world that I should be was AIRLINE PILOT.
So why did I give that up?? Anyone that hears my story has the same dumbfounded look on their face….WTF?!?! “You gave THAT up?!?” Yes. I did. If you wanna know why, read further…
One of the most influential books that I have ever read is a book by Laurence Gonzales called DEEP SURVIVAL, it's a book about why some people live in the worst of conditions where most others would perish. One of the key messages in the book is:
Learn to live in the reality you are faced with, if you try to make reality bend to what you think it should be…you will die.
Well, I spent the last few years of my eight-year-long airline career trying to make reality bend to what I wanted it to be. I finally had enough. Before I made up my mind, I made a list…you know “pros & cons”…just to be SURE. But, we all know, if you get to the point of making a list like that…you already know. You just need to convince yourself you’re not totally off your rocker…
Here’s the list I came up with in a hotel room in Islip, NY (Verbatim) after three Jack and Diets:
CONS:
1) Commuting to work
2) GED equivalent schedulers that have NO idea…
3) Management that gives (less than) two shits about me
4) Pay is less than McDonalds (people have NO idea…)
5) 14 hour days at work, paid for less than HALF of that
6) Not very conducive to a social life
7) Conference call with Chief Pilot if you call in sick
8) Threatened with firing if you call in fatigued (WTF?!) (Incredulous)
9) Doesn’t help me get laid
10) The CRJ sucks (and “real” planes are like the DoDo)
11) Lifestyle is DRAINING (mentally, physically and matrimonially)
12) Too many dipshit republicans do this job
13) Travelling public is retarded, and un-informed
14) It seems that NOBODY (majors or regionals) are happy!!
PROS:
1) Instant street credit if someone asks what I do for a living
2) I can travel to anywhere for free if a seat is open.
I’m not going to bore you and explain each bullet point…but I will direct your attention to the CONS list numbers 4, 5 and 8. These should scare you. Any friends that know the industry are probably nodding their heads as they read this list.
Some of you will just think to yourself: “Every job has it’s bad points”. And my response to you is: Spoken like someone who has NO CLUE…and I re-direct you to #4,5 and 8. If you can’t figure it out from that…you’re a sorry piece of ass. To extrapolate…
#4: If you reach the point you would RATHER work at McDonald’s than fly airlines…
#5: If you would accept a job like that…you’re a liar (or lying to yourself).
#8: If I am asked to fly a plane full of people after working three days in a row from noon to midnite and then on the fourth and last day fly from 8am to 7pm…and if you think that’s safe…you’re retarded. I think any sane person wants their pilots well-rested. I also think that if you’re responsible for the safe delivery of people from Point A to Point B…you should be given a schedule that is conducive to enough rest and enough pay.
The more I talk to people in the transportation industry…the more I see how CEO’s think of the operators of this equipment (trains, boats, trucks, planes) as cattle. A body sleeping is a body not making money for us. A plane on the ground is a plane not making money.
The coup de grace? I just flat out decided that I wasn’t going to be a whore to the CEO of an airline so I could follow that carrot dangled in front of me: FedEx, UPS, AirTran. And the more I thought about THOSE jobs…the more I just realized I just wasn’t going to do it anymore. Watching a plane take off will ALWAYS make me want to fly…but I can fly for ME…not for THEM. A cockpit is a cockpit. My saving grace might be the fact I never had “size envy”. I never thought that flying a 19 seat turboprop was any less of a job (and in fact, was MORE work) than flying a 757. And at the end of the day: I just never felt appreciated for the work I did. And I know that pilots who fly 747’s feel the same way these days. And folks…the industry is ONLY gonna get worse. If Republic Airlines is flying Airbuses for regional pay…that sets a precedent. (NOTE: When you Google “airline pay rates”, make note of the monthly guarantee…that will make your erection go away pretty quickly)
I gave up my dream…and in the end, as always, it’s because someone was greedy and wanted more profit for themselves. I would rather be a barmaid and know I’m getting paid for every hour I work than be responsible for a 35 Million dollar aircraft and get treated like a ten-year-old.
The chalk-line around my airline career was drawn on 08 April, 2010. R.I.P.
If you could have ANY job in the world…ANY JOB…what would it be? I'm giving you an open slate…education and money are not an issue. You can be ANYTHING you want to be…a pornstar, tennis pro, astronaut, bass fisherman…ANYTHING. How many of you can answer that question today, as an adult? My guess is about one out of five…and that comes from over ten years of asking that question to a lot of people, both men and women (It's a GREAT conversation starter, btw)…maybe I was lucky, but I always knew what I wanted to do…
The oldest artwork my parents have of mine is a fingerpainting that I did of a tree, with a plane parked next to it. I was two. I know this, because my mother wrote a date in the margin of the picture. My love of flying came from my father. He was an electronics guru, too…so I guess I owe my love of electronics to my father as well. My father used to be one of those people that parked his car at the approach end of a runway to watch the planes land and take off…he would take me with him sometimes. The noise, the drama, the emotions I felt were…well…nothing short of fucking amazing. I was mesmerized as a kid…to be able to fly…to bring something so HUGE, that flew in the air and be able to land it safely was, in my young mind…well, nothing short of a miracle. My mind was innocent. I had no illusions of giant paychecks or sex with stewardesses…I just wanted to be able to do THAT! Fly a plane. If you need further proof…I took an employment test in the fifth grade…and another in the eighth grade; the only answer this test told the world that I should be was AIRLINE PILOT.
So why did I give that up?? Anyone that hears my story has the same dumbfounded look on their face….WTF?!?! “You gave THAT up?!?” Yes. I did. If you wanna know why, read further…
One of the most influential books that I have ever read is a book by Laurence Gonzales called DEEP SURVIVAL, it's a book about why some people live in the worst of conditions where most others would perish. One of the key messages in the book is:
Learn to live in the reality you are faced with, if you try to make reality bend to what you think it should be…you will die.
Well, I spent the last few years of my eight-year-long airline career trying to make reality bend to what I wanted it to be. I finally had enough. Before I made up my mind, I made a list…you know “pros & cons”…just to be SURE. But, we all know, if you get to the point of making a list like that…you already know. You just need to convince yourself you’re not totally off your rocker…
Here’s the list I came up with in a hotel room in Islip, NY (Verbatim) after three Jack and Diets:
CONS:
1) Commuting to work
2) GED equivalent schedulers that have NO idea…
3) Management that gives (less than) two shits about me
4) Pay is less than McDonalds (people have NO idea…)
5) 14 hour days at work, paid for less than HALF of that
6) Not very conducive to a social life
7) Conference call with Chief Pilot if you call in sick
8) Threatened with firing if you call in fatigued (WTF?!) (Incredulous)
9) Doesn’t help me get laid
10) The CRJ sucks (and “real” planes are like the DoDo)
11) Lifestyle is DRAINING (mentally, physically and matrimonially)
12) Too many dipshit republicans do this job
13) Travelling public is retarded, and un-informed
14) It seems that NOBODY (majors or regionals) are happy!!
PROS:
1) Instant street credit if someone asks what I do for a living
2) I can travel to anywhere for free if a seat is open.
I’m not going to bore you and explain each bullet point…but I will direct your attention to the CONS list numbers 4, 5 and 8. These should scare you. Any friends that know the industry are probably nodding their heads as they read this list.
Some of you will just think to yourself: “Every job has it’s bad points”. And my response to you is: Spoken like someone who has NO CLUE…and I re-direct you to #4,5 and 8. If you can’t figure it out from that…you’re a sorry piece of ass. To extrapolate…
#4: If you reach the point you would RATHER work at McDonald’s than fly airlines…
#5: If you would accept a job like that…you’re a liar (or lying to yourself).
#8: If I am asked to fly a plane full of people after working three days in a row from noon to midnite and then on the fourth and last day fly from 8am to 7pm…and if you think that’s safe…you’re retarded. I think any sane person wants their pilots well-rested. I also think that if you’re responsible for the safe delivery of people from Point A to Point B…you should be given a schedule that is conducive to enough rest and enough pay.
The more I talk to people in the transportation industry…the more I see how CEO’s think of the operators of this equipment (trains, boats, trucks, planes) as cattle. A body sleeping is a body not making money for us. A plane on the ground is a plane not making money.
The coup de grace? I just flat out decided that I wasn’t going to be a whore to the CEO of an airline so I could follow that carrot dangled in front of me: FedEx, UPS, AirTran. And the more I thought about THOSE jobs…the more I just realized I just wasn’t going to do it anymore. Watching a plane take off will ALWAYS make me want to fly…but I can fly for ME…not for THEM. A cockpit is a cockpit. My saving grace might be the fact I never had “size envy”. I never thought that flying a 19 seat turboprop was any less of a job (and in fact, was MORE work) than flying a 757. And at the end of the day: I just never felt appreciated for the work I did. And I know that pilots who fly 747’s feel the same way these days. And folks…the industry is ONLY gonna get worse. If Republic Airlines is flying Airbuses for regional pay…that sets a precedent. (NOTE: When you Google “airline pay rates”, make note of the monthly guarantee…that will make your erection go away pretty quickly)
I gave up my dream…and in the end, as always, it’s because someone was greedy and wanted more profit for themselves. I would rather be a barmaid and know I’m getting paid for every hour I work than be responsible for a 35 Million dollar aircraft and get treated like a ten-year-old.
The chalk-line around my airline career was drawn on 08 April, 2010. R.I.P.
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