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Wednesday, July 08, 2009

In the Age of the 707

In the Age of the 707....

Those were the good ole days. Pilots back
then were men that didn't want to be women or girly men.  Pilots all
knew who Jimmy Doolittle was. Pilots drank coffee, whiskey, smoked cigars
and didn't wear digital watches.

They carried their own suitcases
and brain bags like the real men that they were. Pilots didn't bend over
into the crash position multiple times each day in front of the passengers
at security so that some Gov't agent could probe for tweezers or fingernail
clippers or too much toothpaste.

Pilots did not go through the
terminal impersonating a caddy pulling a bunch of golf clubs, computers,
guitars, and feed bags full of tofu and granola on a sissy-trailer with no
hat and granny glasses hanging on a pink string around their pencil neck
while talking to their personal trainer on the cell phone!!!

an Airline Captain was as good as being the King in a Mel Brooks
movie.  All the Stewardesses20(aka. Flight Attendants) were young,
attractive, single women that were proud to be combatants in the sexual
revolution. They didn't have to turn sideways, grease up and suck it in to
get through the cockpit door.  They would blush and say thank you when
told that they looked good, instead of filing a sexual harassment claim.
Junior Stewardesses shared a room and talked about men.... with no thoughts
of substitution.

Passengers wore nice clothes and were polite, they
could speak AND understand English. They didn't speak gibberish or listen to
loud gangsta rap on their iPods. They bathed and didn't smell like a rotting
pile of garbage in a jogging suit and flip-flops. Children didn't travel
alone, commuting between trailer parks.  There were no Mongol hordes
asking for a seatbelt extension, or a Scotch and grapefruit juice cocktail
with a twist.

If the Captain wanted to throw some offensive, ranting
jerk off the airplane, it was done without any worries of a lawsuit or
getting fired.

Axial flow engines crackled with the sound of freedom
and left an impressive black smoke trail like a locomotive burning soft
coal. Jet fuel was cheap and once the throttles were pushed up they were
left there, after all it was the jet age and the idea was to go fast (run
like a lizard on a hardwood floor).  Economy cruise was something in
the performance book, but no one knew why or where it was.  When the
clacker went off no one got all tight and scared because Boeing built it out
of iron, nothing was going to fall off and that sound had the same effect on
real pilots then as Viagra does now for those new age guys.

was very little plastic and no composites on the airplanes or the
Stewardesses' pectoral regions. Airplanes and women had eye pleasing
symmetrical curves, not a bunch of ugly vortex generators, ventral fins,
winglets, flow diverters, tattoos, rings in their nose, tongues and

Airlines were run by men like C.R. Smith, Bob Six and Juan
who had built their companies virtually from scratch, knew many of
their employees by name and were lifetime airline employees themselves. . .
not pseudo financiers and bean counters who flit from one occupation to
another for a few bucks, a better parachute or a fancier title, while
fervently believing that they are a class of beings unto themselves.

And so it was back then....and never will be

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