“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re experiencing a maintenance issue.”
Hm. Not the words you like to hear while sitting on an airplane. I look out the window and see a blue pick-up with ‘for sale’ signs in its windows drive up and park under the wing. On the door is a sign that reads “Burbank Airport Service.” The guy that gets out is, apparently, our mechanic. He looks about a week shy of retirement, sports a walrus moustache and has one of those nifty little red tool boxes that don’t carry anything more sophisticated than a Phillips head screwdriver. Well, I guess this isn’t the space shuttle.
Anyway, I name him Fred.
Fred disappears from view and is presumably checking on our maintenance issue. I see the flaps go back and forth (or is it up and down?) and envision Fred, from the innards of the plane, yelling, “Try ‘er now, Captain!”
A woman sitting a couple rows behind me decides driving to her meeting might be quicker. She asks to be let off the plane. As I watch her make her way down the aisle, I think, what an idiot. We’ll probably be on our way in minutes. But, then maybe she hasn’t noticed that Fred is on the case. Or, maybe she’s lost all confidence in the plane.
Hm.
The pilot announces that Fred has found the problem and is waiting for hydraulic fluid. (Does this mean a trip to Home Depot?)
I see someone (not Fred) attempting to start Fred’s car. Stop thief! But, no...he’s just moving it out of the way. It concerns me that Fred isn’t familiar with the parking strategy.
Nonetheless, what the hell. The Captain announces we’re a “go” so I guess the dipstick registers full.
Off to Reno (via San Jose).
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1 comment:
Oh, doncha just hate that? Like - what? - they don't have a checklist and didn't get it right the first time? Makes you wonder what else will go wrong while in the air. Hope you arrived safely and are having fun.
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