Tuesday, March 13, 2001

It's Spring Break for a lot of people, and that means plane trips to warm and sunny climates, while those of us who lack the funds have to live with the lingering winter. Airlines take this opportunity to hike their rates with the kind of naked greed normally associated with software companies from Seattle, and what do you get out of it? Cramped seating, washrooms that Calista Flockhart can barely squeeze into, crusty flight attendants, and let's not forget the possibility of crashing. Sure, flying is safer than driving, yadda yadda yadda, but at least with a car, you've got a seatbelt and an air bag to at least give you the illusion that you might survive an accident. When you're thirty thousand feet in the air and the main engines cut out, what do you get? A lap belt and an oxygen mask. Gee, thanks, Amelia Earhart, I was hoping my last breath would be pure oxygen. God forbid you should give me something that will help me survive, like a frickin' parachute. See, if they know the plane is going down, and it'll be a few minutes before impact, they should give passengers the option to grab a parachute and jump out. I'll take my chances with a skydive, thank you very much. I have to think my odds of survival are much better than bent over in the crash position, hoping the fuel tanks don't explode on impact. Come on, they give fighter pilots ejector seats, and they don't even have to pay to fly.


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