Flight 3920

Going to Chicago

This is going to be my first time flying into O’Hare airport.  First time into Chicago as a matter of fact.  Cubs suck go Mets, Rockies and Expos. (This was written before the Expos went to DC)  There are four planes total that can be going in or out of our mini-airport err I mean municipal Airport.  We are scheduled to take off at 11:00 am, however we back away from the Gate at 10:57 am.  I am getting really excited because we will be early getting into O’Hare which my fried has told me that you will never be on time if you go through there.  We go onto the tar mat and stop, sit and wait.  I know the military is in control of all flights now, because they perfected the hurry up and wait philosophy.  I feel sorry for the people who missed the flight, because here we sit and they can be walking by us waving, but they couldn’t board.  Picked my nose a couple of times and made sure my boxers were where they should be as we were cleared for take off.  I already hate flying into O’Hare because I hate to wait.  I hate to wait.  Did I mention I hate to wait?  One minute later and we are finally in the air flying towards Chicago, Bears suck go Broncos and Packers and only 25 minutes behind schedule.  The Captain says they are trying to zigzag us across the skies and we may only be about 10 minutes late if they tell us to slow down, otherwise we should be on schedule.  That is the one nice thing about flying; no real speed limit. Another beautiful thing about flying is the mobility on the vertical plane. If the road is bumpy you just need to move up or down as well as left to right for a smooth ride.  Original flight deck was 29,000ft, but now we are at 33,000 ft.  Thinking back to the movie Pushing Tin (if you have not seen it then you are a horrible person and you must stop reading, go to the local video store and rent this movie immediately, the you may continue reading), this whole zigzag deal makes me a little uneasy.  We are flying through a bunch of cumulus clouds with almost 0 visibility.  The traffic controllers will be moving us through numerous other flight paths and we are dependant upon some joker, who is extremely stressed all day long.  His wife is having an affair with the Pepsi guy or his girlfriend just left him.  This is the guy that will be crossing us through the 50 or so flight paths.  Just as you need to make an evasive maneuver, he will freeze.  Emergency lights will come on and we will collide into another plane in the air and explode as a big fire ball in the sky.  Or he could do an excellent job and line every plane up perfectly.  We can make up for lost time and arrive at the airport gate only 5 minutes late after a 30 minute delay...

Now at wonderful O’Hare our next flight is one if these three options:

A)    On-time

B)     Delayed 40 fucking minutes

C)    Cancelled

If you chose option B, then you are a mad genius.  After the last pilot intricately guided us through a spider wed of flight paths; O’Hare is running behind 40 fucking minutes.  Now don’t get me wrong I have as much desire to get to Kentucky as I do being anally probed in prison; however since it’s inevitable (me going to Kentucky you pervs), I might as well get there as fast as I can so I can get back to beautiful Nebraska.  After a 2, yes count them 2 hours delay in Chicago, we hop skip and jump down to Louisville.  A great time is had by all I can assure you.  While we are driving up to the gate I see tones of emergency vehicles and a plane smoldering.  Yep that’s right a plane caught on fire as it was sitting at the gate.  Evidently it was a small fire, but it still made me feel really safe about the quality of aircraft carrying me around.  I suppose I should quit whining and look at the bright side, at least it wasn’t my plane.      

Next up, flying back through O’Hare.  (You know this is going to be good kids.)