Memories, memories. A small plane just flew over and down the cove making me think of a trip of long ago. I never did care much about flying anyway but it was a nice and quick way to get where you want to go.
The trip I am remembering now was a charted plane out of Columbia. We always flew in twin engine planes but this time the manager of that era seemed to have a problem with the excretory opening at the end of his alimentary canal and forced me and the customer to go in a single engine plane. Of course the butt hole wasn't flying along with us.
The fight was to O'Hare in Chicago where we would rent a car and look at some equipment. The pilot was a young boy with a pimpled face and he wasn't very talkative, matter of fact he slept most of the way. I guess he had a good auto-pilot. Anyway to land at O'Hare you call and they give you a small window for a time in and another for time out. We just barely made it there on time. A few minutes later and we would not have been able to land at that airport. We had to hurry our look at the equipment but we made it back with time to spare.
While waiting on a taxi way where they had us hold and seemed to be ignoring us, a large private jet taxied a turn in front of us and came within a very few inches of smacking us with his wing. It was not a fun trip at all and the customer said he would never go with me again if a single engine plane is all we could haul him in. It was a case of time flying without the fun.
Boring.....................I know, I know.
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It doesn't matter who my manager was; it matters who I remember he was.~Anne Sexton (edt)
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