While boarding the plane in San Diego, the queue was backed up onto the jet-way. The pilot, in his sixties, walked past going in the wrong direction (toward the terminal). He saw a kid in line wearing a Grateful Dead tee shirt. The pilot tells the kid, "I love them. I'm a big Deadhead. I really miss Jerry." My first thought was: Pretty cool for a pilot. My second, more fearful thought was: Holy crap! What if he's high on marijuana? Or worse, what if he just dropped some LSD? After calming down, I realized it was probably just the former (high on marijuana) and that he was probably on his way to buy a pint (gallon?) of Cherry Garcia for the trip to Chicago.
The flight from Chicago to Rome got off to a very shaky start. About halfway down the runway, a gust of wind lifted up the right side of the plane and we were on left wheels only. After a collective gasp, the pilot was able to right the aircraft and had just enough runway left to take off. Needless to say, my laundry bill will be a little higher than normal this week.
While me and the other 99%-ers were sitting in Coach, the First Class waitress, err, flight attendant, walked toward the rear of the plane to do something. Upon her return to First Class, she turned around to close the curtain which separates the cabins. Our eyes met as she closed the curtain. I could have sworn she gave me a condescending look and was thinking, "You'd be sitting up here too if you had worked harder in school!"
Pictured below is the tin sardine can, err, the Boeing 767 Chariot which carried me safely to Rome, "The Eternal City."
OMG I would have died!!!!
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