Oceanbreeze said
My ex-girlfriend kept saying the same thing.
I was in a small plane (2-seater) crash in 1992. Got both legs broken.
Still, I am not one bit afraid of flying.
I am not afraid of flying. But I am afraid of crashing.
Things that people actually asked me:
Q. "How high were you when you crashed?"
A. Not high at all. We didn't crash until we hit the ground.
Q. "Did it hurt ?"
A. My voice hurt for days from the screaming
Q. "Did you get rescued ?"
A. No, I am not here now. I am still laying out in that field waiting.
Q. "you were in a plane crash? really ? what happened?"
A. we crashed.
Q. "who was flying?"
A. No one. If someone was flying, we would have landed safely. (Think about this, if the plane was flying we would not have crashed. The moment before we hit the ground, we were no longer flying, we were falling.)
Q. "Did you go to the hospital ?"
A. No, I put the titanium in my leg all by myself and I use these crutches just to attract girls.
Q. "What kind of plane was it ?"
A. Apparently it was not a very good one.
Q. "Did the pilot have insurance ?"
A. No. So it is a dang good thing that I did.
I do not hesitate to get on airplanes these days. As long as they are big and have a big name painted on them with lots of insurance. But I do wonder.... in the 80's when I first started traveling by airplane, us passengers would have 4 or 5 drinks on the airplane. Now, it is tough to get the stewardess to serve me a second one. I guess they don't have enough to serve me after the pilots get their drinks.
And I learned the hard way. Do not have 8 or 9 beers in the airport lounge before your flight. I learned that once the plane leaves the 'gate' and it sits on the taxiway for 45 minutes, they will not let you get up to go to the bathroom. Do you know that when pee backs up into your eyeballs that you can smell it?
And you wonder why the seats are too skinny? I went to a chili cook-off on my way to the airport. It was excellent. I ate 7 bowls of chili. It was spicy and really tastey. I washed it down with 4 beers. ( I am 375 pounds, that's just a snack to me.) When we landed, I squirmed out of the seat. Now that those metal arms in the seat were not squishing my butt shut, 2 hours and 45 minutes of beer-fermented-chili-gas began escaping.
A baby 6 rows ahead of me started crying because of the noise. The stewardess called the pilot to alert the hazordous waste truck. About the time I felt my self smiling with relief, I saw the lady next to me break 3 fingernails trying to open that drop-down oxygen mask. I immediately blamed the gas on the man sitting in front of me, I even insisted he forcefully shut his hole until he got of the plane. As my intestinal pressure was dropping, so was the frequency of my cheek-flapping. It dropped to one of those low frequencies that you feel more than you hear it. Then back up to a note that really reverberated in the plane and I could feel in my chest. I now started to loudly insult that man's diet and his mother and handed him the barf-bag from my seat. I strained and stopped the flow and demanded that this man apologize to everyone on the plane. He sat there dumbfounded with his mouth open. Before he could think of something to say I let the rest of the gas go with a crescendo that would make any maestro proud!
I smiled to myself all the way off of that plane and up the walkway knowing that all those people gagging and coughing in the plane would forever blame that poor innocent soul... until I noticed that I left a trail of brown right-foot-only footprints in the aisle.
I can never fly Pan-Am again.