The hardest part about flying a plane is the loneliness. Sure, some other pilots may tell you it’s keeping the plane in the air, or remembering what all those buttons are for, but I don’t bother with any of that. That’s what the co-pilot (which is Latin for “real pilot”) is for. Those other pilots also aren’t married to my wife, the ice queen!
My toughest journey was a flight to Graham, Washington, home of zero airports. The loneliness was hitting me hard, that day. My co-pilot wasn’t talking to me, seeing as I was making us fly to a place with nowhere to land and making her do all of the pilot work. I was busy with the real work, though; dealing with the solitude. With her giving me the silent treatment, I was had to resort to crushing mini bottles of Jim Beam with the stewardess. If there’s one thing I learned it’s to always have a stewardess, even for empty flights like that one. That can only help so much, though.
Sure they give you flight simulators in pilot school, but nothing can simulate being stuck in the air with your closest co-worker, a gorgeous young woman and unlimited alcohol for nearly two hours. For almost half of that we didn’t even get TV because of the weather. What they really need is an ennui simulator. Or a pinball machine!
If I could do it all over again, I’d do it different for sure. First off, I’d never marry that old battle axe, no matter how much I want up her icy skirt. There’s nothing up there but trouble, trouble and a vagina. And I certainly wouldn’t make her my co-pilot! That was a huge mistake. Second off, I wouldn’t become a pilot at all. Sure it pays well and is well respected and all that, but I’m a man of the people. I’m not meant to be alone up there in the stars. The whole thing is unnatural. God didn’t give man wings for a reason, not for us to spit in his face and build planes for people who are too lazy to walk. No, if I could do it all again I’d work the land. Yes, I’d be a landman. I’d have a co-landman, who isn’t my wife, to do all of plowing and a land stewardess to drink nips with and bitch about my co-landman to. See, that’s the real hardest part of flying a plane, the regret.
A Man Eating Chicken 