by Freida Marie Crump
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Greetin’s from the Ridge.
It’s been a long day. To be rousted out of bed in one time zone, sight-see for ten hours, spend seven hours on a plane then drive back home before ploppin’ your head down in a less body-friendly time zone stretches the normal 24-hour day into about half a century.
I awoke this mornin’ in Alaska. I’m sure of that. There was beauty and snow-capped peaks. Tonight I look out upon cornfields and Herb.
As I made my final waddle toward the TWA terminal, I picked up a copy of USA Today. The lead article spoke of how Boeing, the world’s largest aircraft builder, has plans for a new plane. The wizards of the air have this problem: They built their first 707 in 1958 and although the big birds have gotten bigger, they still fly the same speed. This is an embarrassment to the boys of Boeing and they’re determined to come up with a jet that’ll approach the speed of sound. (The Concorde of course busts the sonic barrier but most of the world has the good sense to keep the noisy things from landin’. In short, you can fly the Concorde all around the world. You just can’t land.) Boeing’s only real competitor, Airbus, has plans to build the world’s largest commercial carrier, stuffin’ 550 hapless souls into a chicken and yogurt-filled journey.
Frankly, all this leaves me cold. Considerin’ the billions that both biggies of the stratosphere are gonna invest, I’d say they’re gettin’ a small return. Honey, if you got the bucks to spend, forget the airspeed and capacity. Just give me more room!
Boeing’s bent on spendin’ billions of bucks to cut 35 minutes off the journey between Los Angeles and Boston. That’s it, Harriet. Just 35 minutes. At the cost of billions. For a buck they could pick up a real pillow at Dollar General and I’d be a whole lot more satisfied.
Okay, to tell you the truth, I’ve never liked Boeing’s name. Sounds silly. Sounds like the noise a bolt makes when it springs loose from the fuselage. Boing! And you could find a lot more sexy names than Airbus.
But whatever these aeronautic Goliaths want to call themselves, they still can’t provide the simplest of human needs: the necessity of lettin’ your body assume a normal position while sittin’.
I’ve spent long hours in the air inventin’ gimmicks and gadgets that’d put any airline on top of the consumer heap. Like…well, like the Fool Flipper. The Fool Flipper is a device that immediately slams a reclining sleeper into upright position once food touches the tray behind him. The fool will be flipped at supersonic speed into the position he oughta be.
There is no way I can complete the three vital tasks of air travel: movin’, eatin’, and breathin’ with some ying-yang’s seat reclined in my lap. It’s a regal tussle to get the job done with the seat upright. Mr. Boeing, forget the speed, give me room to eat!
My second brainstorm…I think it was devised on my third trip to the lavatory enroute to Australia… is the Aisle Widener. In the airlines’ eternal quest to make another buck, they’ve narrowed the aisle space over the years. I have no actual statistics on this, but I do have several elongated bruises on each hip that I will gladly show any aviation subcommittee once the cameras are removed. What’s needed is a 300 pound longshoreman with FAA on his back, carryin’ a McCullough chainsaw, who’ll stroll down the plane’s aisles before takeoff and simply lop off anything stickin’ out. This includes extra seats, beverage trays and elbows.
Another lifesaver I’d add to the wild blue yonder is the Expanding Potty. Anyone who’s had nature beckon while aloft knows that when you enter a jet’s john, you’d best be headin’ the direction of your ultimate destination ‘cause there ain’t no switchin’ course once the door shuts.
I have a plan for this, too. Many’s the time I’ve peeked into the cockpit of an airliner as I popped off the plane. They have plenty of room in there. I’d recommend extendin’ the potty into the cockpit. This may double as a way to cure Boeing’s need for speed. It’ll give the pilots a real incentive to put pedal to the metal.
And of course the ultimate improvement in air travel would simply be to make the seats wider. There’s a strange theory that’s floated around Boeing for years that hips widen with the income level. Only first-class passengers can fly with breathin’ room for both cheeks. If this is the case then I must be a billionaire ‘cause my hips need room for Rockefeller, but I’m scrunched into a third-world vise that tends to make my eyeballs bulge at certain altitudes.
Fast planes? Forget it, Mr. Boeing-Boeing. The only reason I need to get to Albuquerque quicker is because I’ve been holdin’ my breath for lack of space.
You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door, but you’ll enjoy the trip.