The Helo Grrrrind

How to scare teeny bits of shite right out of your instructor

Flying fun... again

The flying is becoming fun again. I could be all Chuck Yeager about it and say that I just jumped back on the horse and never thought twice about it. But that's not how it worked.

Today I went out for an hour. Actually, I flew just about to the Canadian border and back, and it took about 50 minutes. Ran like a clock.

Two views from the inside - nothing too fascinating. Just the mountains of Washington, and a happy me.

Back from CO

I went to Colorado on Friday. Dave's turning 50. Astounding.

Flew with him on AK Air; took a rental car at the speed "holy shit" up to Vail; arrived 9.30 to his cheering family and waiting martinis.

Big party Saturday night. Sunday back to Denver. (Dave stayed. He's going to ski and have fun in Beaver Creek, then Aspen, until - what? - next week or something.) Yesterday I went to Boulder with friend Denise and just wandered around in 70 degree weather and missed Boulder. This was a fun trip which I have described in such a lackluster way. I apologize. But then...

... to fly out. Went to the airport two hours early, because DIA is a total cattle chute. It's no Newark, or LAX, which are shit-covered cattle chutes. DIA is clean, but it's just one more poorly run meat delivery system.

Cleared the main corral, got to the gate to be told the flight was two hours delayed. So I got to spend nearly four hours in that goddamn airport. (BTW: four hours is how long it takes me to fly my airplane from Seattle to Denver.)

There was a cheerleading squad in the gate area that took it upon themselves to pep people UP! Any of you who have cheerleader copulation ideation would have had it cheered right out of you. I hate purple now.

What else? Let's see. I have commented before, and I will now do so again: talking on the cell phone while holding your penis at the urinal is not okay. But there are a number of men who believe it IS okay. It is not. Do not pee and talk on your phone. It distracts me while I pee, and it is dishonest to the person on the other end of the line.

I got on the airplane and took my window seat. The woman who sat next to me, who undoubtedly had three-plus hours in the airport to do anything she wanted - including eating - proceeded to eat. We were in the air for fewer than 15 minutes when she broke out an aged curried ass sandwich. It stank. Then she took over an hour to eat it. So everyone around row 20 got to smell this shitwich for most of the flight.

The 11-month old in front of me did not cry. She was absolutely adorable. If there was a crash that killed her parents, I would have grabbed her and pretended she was my own and taken her to my home and raised her to be a good person and made up a story about her mother dying in child birth. My friends would have to go along with the story.

The train at SeaTac that moves you from the gates to the terminal broke as our flight arrived. 25 minutes later there was a seething mob waiting for the train when they finally fixed it. I now know what the inside of a colon feels like. Or a Japanese salaryman.

I was going to start by saying "this will be short, because complaining about air travel does nothing." But I end by saying I feel better now. It gave me perspective, and a chance to write "shitwich."