Someone questioned my credentials as a pilot in a PM, so I figured I'd share them with everyone so as to clear up any doubts that any of you might have. While I take my flying and diving seriously, I take my ego even more seriously.
I learned how to fly in the circus. I peddled a toy aircraft around in the ring while elephants dressed like the Red Baron chased me around shooting peanuts at me from their trunks.
After a while, the act went vertical with the help of cables and explosives. I figured, hell, this ain't so bad. So I moved to Mexico and got my license, which I paid for by running drugs across the border for a guy named PePe.
After a few years, the Air Force picked me up under Operation Boot Strap, and I tried to fly them really fast ones with the tv screens in em. My narcalepsy kept me from graduating with my wings, so I bought some plastic fake ones, moved to the Midwest, and opened a flight school. I figured I'd pass on all my knowledge and skill to young buding pilots.
After the second sexual harrassment lawsuit from female students, and one court ordered cease and desist curtailing my instruction days, I moved on to the airlines. I find it much easier anyway, since I can sleep most of the flight. I've found that while these big birds have a lot of buttons and stuff, you really only need to learn a few of them for normal operations.
So here I sit, with the best job in the world. Come fly with me sometime, and I'll come back and set you up with free drinks a stuff. We can talk about diving and life until it's time to land. Then I'll have to get busy and figure out where we are.
Sorry if I'm typing too much. I picked a bad day to stop sniffing glue.
I learned how to fly in the circus. I peddled a toy aircraft around in the ring while elephants dressed like the Red Baron chased me around shooting peanuts at me from their trunks.
After a while, the act went vertical with the help of cables and explosives. I figured, hell, this ain't so bad. So I moved to Mexico and got my license, which I paid for by running drugs across the border for a guy named PePe.
After a few years, the Air Force picked me up under Operation Boot Strap, and I tried to fly them really fast ones with the tv screens in em. My narcalepsy kept me from graduating with my wings, so I bought some plastic fake ones, moved to the Midwest, and opened a flight school. I figured I'd pass on all my knowledge and skill to young buding pilots.
After the second sexual harrassment lawsuit from female students, and one court ordered cease and desist curtailing my instruction days, I moved on to the airlines. I find it much easier anyway, since I can sleep most of the flight. I've found that while these big birds have a lot of buttons and stuff, you really only need to learn a few of them for normal operations.
So here I sit, with the best job in the world. Come fly with me sometime, and I'll come back and set you up with free drinks a stuff. We can talk about diving and life until it's time to land. Then I'll have to get busy and figure out where we are.
Sorry if I'm typing too much. I picked a bad day to stop sniffing glue.
